Firesight
by Teleryn
Summary: Sequel to 'Starsight'. Everything that could have gone wrong for Thorin has: Smaug is awake, half of Erebor is destroyed, war is looming, alliances are ruined, and an innocent witch has been sacrificed for an evil one. So much more than honour and riches are at stake. Now, a question mark is on everyone's lives. Rated T for violence and some sexual themes.
1. The Return

**_Firesight_**

**Disclaimer: ** I own neither Tolkein's nor Jackson's original creative material, on page or screen. My OCs might get a bit mischievous and break the universe, but that's their business.

**Author's****Note: **Yes, I have risen from the dead! For new readers, this is a sequel to _Starsight_, which covers the events of DoS. I strongly recommend you read that first, otherwise you won't have the foggiest idea what's going on here. But for those of you who have stayed wonderfully patient between _Starsight _and _Firesight, _I can only hope you'll find this first chapter a suitable reward. Can't promise that this story will be finished anytime soon, but as always, I do promise my best efforts. Happy reading!

**Chapter One**

**The Return**

Cauna steered herself against the night wind, fully inhabiting the body Ember used to own. Each cold breath was a dose of ecstasy, a reminder that after years of sub-existence, she was once again _alive_.

The witch cast wary glances up at Smaug as she gained on him. In no time at all there would be chaos and fire, tragedy and destruction. She needed to get the sister safely away before any of that happened.

'Slow your path, fire-drake,' she murmured, extending the fingers of one young hand up underneath the dragon's form. With moderate concentration she wound down the forces that swept his wings through the air. Now he moved forward still, but like an arrow through tar - and he would barely notice.

Having one less thing to concern herself with, Cauna tipped forward on Thorin Oakenshield's sword, steadily descending to water, black as the sky that had yet to dawn. The sword skimmed the water; Cauna remained upright, supported by her own magic, dark eyes fixed upon her intended docking point.

'Ember?' repeated Fili, holding Astra close while her legs were still unsteady. 'What do you mean? Did you feel something?'

Astra stayed silent, as though straining to hear a distant voice.

'I can't feel anything,' she said with shallow breath. 'I can't - her - she's not there, Fili she's not _there_, it's like she's -'

'_Quildë_, Astra,' said Tauriel, who laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder. 'If your head is not clear your heart will not know what to feel properly.'

She firmly tipped Astra's face to meet her own. 'Your sister, do you sense her?'

Astra opened her mouth, but no sound came out, because another came from the docks just outside.

'Astra?' The stairs to Bard's house creaked violently as the voice grew louder. '_Astra_!'

Dwarves, Elves and children alike all stared at the door when Ember appeared there, out of breath, singed, and generally wrecked. Kili stirred, forcing himself awake to prove this was not a dream.

'Ember?' he mumbled. Astra found her strength, and used it all to crash into her twin, heaving dry sobs.

'Em! Oh you're alive, you're here, oh I am never getting bloody separated from you again…'

The sisters embraced tightly. Ember closed her eyes and ran a hand up and down Astra's back.

'It feels like an age,' she said. 'But I am here now.'

'What in the world's happened to you?' exclaimed Bofur. Astra stepped back and stared at her twin's burn marks. Ember gravely addressed the room:

'I am afraid the worst has happened. Smaug has been woken, and he is making for Lake-town as we speak. Astra, we need to -'

'WHAT?!' the room collectively gasped. Kili pushed himself off the table with a newfound energy.

'How did this happen? What about Thorin? Is anyone hurt?'

He stood before Ember, terrified, but secretly thrilled to have her back and alive. She blinked at him.

'No, no one's hurt. Everything just went wrong, and quickly. There's no time to explain, _we_ _must get out of here_.'

'Where are we supposed to go?' said Astra.

'What about our da?' said Bain. 'Did you see him on your way here?'

'I - no,' said Ember, irritated by the question. 'Astra, this dragon is unstoppable, even with our powers combined.'

'Skies above, but we can't just leave! What about the Dwarves? What about everyone in this town?'

'Is there time enough to get everyone out?' said Sigrid, tearing Tilda away from the hole where the windows used to be.

'No,' said Ember. 'We waste precious seconds just by standing here discussing the matter! Astra, you and I…if this is not a sign to flee back home where we will be safe, what is?'

Astra held onto her sister's wrists. Both their pulses were rapid with fear.

'Where is the rest of your company now?' asked Legolas.

'Still in the mountain. At least there they'll be safe awhile, _unlike us_.'

'How is it that you came here so quickly?' said Tauriel, frowning. Ember looked momentarily thrown, and did not answer right away.

'I am lucky to have made it here with my bones still intact,' she replied. 'Smaug swept me up in his claws before bursting forth from the mountain, and dropped me in the lake. Now _for the love of Eru_, we need to run before we're burnt to ashes!'

'But -!' Kili and Fili protested, before being interrupted.

'You're right. Let's get out of here as fast as we can.'

Astra nodded quickly before turning to face the Dwarves (specifically, the blond prince). He looked truly pained when she shook her head and muttered, 'I'm sorry.'

Ember's smile was partly sad, but mostly relieved. She took up her sister's hand, nodded a general goodbye to the room, and crossed to the battered door.

Astra's face was calm as she let herself to be led along, and stayed calm when she took up a chipped beer glass and shattered it against Ember's head.

Silence fell with her body on the wooden boards - she lay with her hair over her face, perfectly still. Bard's children stared in horror and awe at the woman who took deep breaths to steady herself, shaking glass fragments from her palm. Tauriel's hands were over her mouth, Legolas, Oin, Fili and Kili were aghast, and Bofur was plainly bewildered.

'…What did you do that for?'

'Have you lost your mind?!' Kili all but screeched.

'I'm not the one you should be asking,' Astra replied grimly. 'Whoever this is, it's not Ember. Not the one I share blood with.'

'What are you saying?' asked Bain, taking a hesitant step closer. 'That she's possessed or something?'

'I don't know, I don't want to believe it.'

'She was acting very strangely,' Oin conceded.

'Exactly - if what she said is true, if Smaug really is about to descend on Lake-town, Ember would care more. She would _care _that hundreds of innocent townspeople might die today.'

At these words, Sigrid crouched to enfold a horrorstruck Tilda in her arms. Astra turned her attention to Kili.

'Not to mention she barely acknowledged your presence, let alone your full recovery!'

The Dwarf could only flush red.

'No,' Astra continued. 'I knew something terrible had happened - this is it. I don't trust this person at all, and neither should anyone else…_Also_, might I add, how could she have been dropped from Smaug's grip into the lake, only to turn up here dry and burnt?'

The floorboards creaked. Astra slowly looked over her shoulder.

Only Legolas dared to move, notching an arrow as an immediate defense against Ember, who stood from the floor and brushed bits of glass off her clothing with relative nonchalance. Her neutral brown eyes blinked before she reached up a hand to the back of her head. Astra's jaw dropped open further and further as she watched her sister find the tip of the largest glass shard and tug it from the back of her skull. She examined the fragment, half coated in sticky blood, with an absent-minded interest, before letting it clatter to the floor.

'And I thought_ I _was supposed to be the clever twin.'

Cauna dropped the curtain of false appearance: it was less exhausting to revert back to her dark eyes and hair anyway. Astra backed into the wall.

'Where's my sister? What are you?'

'Oh ho ho, not quick enough, Elf,' snickered Cauna, as she halted Legolas's arrow mid-flight and reversed its direction. It neatly pinned his hand to a broken ceiling beam. He cried out, unused to suffering such a swift and violent injury. Bain, Sigrid and Tilda squeaked with fright.

'Astra, dear child,' she continued, 'you know me. I have always been here. I am your twin, and the darkness of your memory, the stardust in your scar.'

Astra would have screamed as she did the night her father was killed, had Cauna not made her vocal cords seize up with her limbs into stillness. Before anyone could react quickly enough, she pulled Astra into a tight grip with a single gesture.

'Unhand her, you demon witch!' growled Fili. He lunged forward with a sword, but wavered when Cauna pointed a threatening finger at Astra's neck.

'Hastiness will only end badly, Dwarf prince,' she said, 'for you and for her alike. I have no need of blades to open and close a person's skin.'

Fili growled as he re-sheathed his sword. Astra pushed hard on Cauna's arm but only managed to buy herself a little more air rather than freedom from her grip. Tauriel and Legolas fought to pull the arrow from his palm.

'You…you're the witch?' said Kili, stupefied.

'Yes. _The _witch, I rather like that,' said Cauna. She enjoyed his discomfort from her glare. This Dwarf prince, no more than a boy, was so torn between what he saw and what he heard.

'Now,' she said, measured but lethal, 'I have more pressing matters to attend to, so I will spare you all the tedium of torture, hexes, death, what have you. Provided that you do not follow us. Break this instruction and you _will _suffer. As will she. Tenfold.'

Nodding at the immobilized Astra was enough to dissuade Fili from lashing out. Sensing his younger brother's growing ferocity, he gripped Kili's arm for good measure.

'What have you done with her?' Kili snarled. 'Where is the Ember we know?'

'Dead, silly prince,' Cauna responded flatly. 'Dead and gone. I was always in her, beneath the surface. But thanks to this failed quest of yours, I have broken through. It wore her down, made her volatile. Made her _weak_.'

The witch took out Thorin's sword with her free hand, tipped it to the floor, and stepped onto it, still holding Astra.

'Not in the least,' she added, glancing at Kili, 'because of her frankly sickening infatuation with you.'

Tauriel went as pale as Legolas.

'Yes, Kili, nephew of Thorin. She loved you dearly - her first, and her last.'

Cauna fused the sword with her magic, focused on the wrecked windows before her, and took off with Astra into the dawn.

The silence left in their wake was brief: Legolas winced as he and Tauriel gave the arrow a final hard tug to get it out of his hand, which he clutched and wrapped under his sleeve to soak up the blood. Tilda quietly sobbed in Sigrid's arms.

'…What just happened,' said Bofur.

'We have to get her back!' said Fili.

'What about the dragon?' said Bain.

'What do we do?' said Kili, having been thrown to one side of the universe and back.

In the corner, after muttering some quick words of healing to stem Legolas's blood flow, Tauriel took it upon herself to control the situation and delegate:

'We do whatever we can, as best we can. I know not how much time we have before the dragon lays waste to this town, but in any case you will need more help than is available here. Legolas and I can return to Mirkwood and bring in reinforcements.'

'From _those_ Elves?' muttered Oin.

'This is not the time!' cried Bofur. 'What about us, what can we do?'

'Head for the Lonely Mountain,' said Fili. 'Find Thorin and the others, tell him what's going on, and that we will meet them there as soon as we can.'

'Right. Wait, where are you going then?'

'To save Astra from Ember.'

'And Ember from Cauna,' said Kili. Tauriel stopped halfway out the door with a pitying look on her face.

'Kili, now is the time when honesty is vital. Do you think that there is any of Ember left to save?'

All eyes lay on the Dwarf prince. He fought a knot in his throat.

'In my honesty,' he said, 'I love her. It's all I need to begin with.'

Tauriel bit her lip and nodded.

'We will see you again with reinforcements. Come, Legolas.'

They started quickly down the stairs. Fili gave Kili's shoulder a solid pat.

'Where would they go?'

'It depends what Cauna means to do with Astra,' said Kili.

'If Cauna's taken control of Ember -'

'- then she has control of Ember's powers -'

'- and will want Astra's too -'

'- so she wants to steal back her powers -'

'- somewhere private but nearby…'

'The forest!' Sigrid piped up. 'That's the direction they're flying in.'

'Then we'll make for there,' said Fili.

'Will you be alright?' Bofur asked of Bard's children. 'Where will you go that's safe?'

'We can come with you to the forest,' said Bain. 'We'll show you the way, if we run fast enough we can reach them before the witch does anything else bad.'

'Good man, good plan,' said Fili. 'Let's away.'

'Meet you at the mountain,' said Bofur.

In under a minute, Bard's damaged lake house was deserted. Sigrid's intuitions were correct - Cauna was flying Astra out to the forest over the lake.

None of them knew she had a final errand to run beforehand.


	2. The Edge of Life and Death

**Chapter Two **

**The Edge of Life and Death**

**A/N: **Well hello there. Very encouraging to see lots of views so soon after the first chapter went up! The story is all planned out, but nothing is set in stone…yet. Leave a review, tell me where you want the story to go, what you'd like to see more of, less of, etc. Let's be reader-writer partners in crime! Otherwise, happy reading!

Were there space enough to do it, Bard would pace around his cell with furious anxiety. The harder he slammed on the bars, imploring the goal guards to listen, the louder they mocked him. At one point, he was lucky to dodge a flying glass.

It was between night and dawn, the dragon was coming to destroy every man, woman and child in this town as prophesied, and here he was, one widower with a splitting headache, powerless to do anything. He rocked back and forth, worrying over his children. Sigrid was smart and responsible, and Bain was courageous, but Tilda was small and fragile. Would all three of them have the nouse to escape in time, or were they sitting ducks?

A light clank between the bars on the upper window interrupted his trembling panic. Bard jerked his head up and fixed his gaze on a familiar face: the redheaded witch with soft, owlish eyes. She stared down through his window as he sprang up from his cramped bed.

'It's you!' he gasped.

'It certainly is,' she whispered. Blood spatters and black ash stained her white face. 'Listen -'

'The creature,' said Bard, 'it's heading for Lake-town, isn't it?'

'Yes, which is why we don't have much time. I am here to get you out.'

'Bless you, good lady, bless you!'

'Before I do, I have only this to say,' she checked behind her to make sure no one was around. 'The weak spot, beneath his wing. It exists.'

Bard steadied himself against the grotty wall.

'It exists? I knew it, I knew my ancestor's aim was true!'

'Hurry now,' said the witch, holding an arm through the bars. 'Defend your people.'

From her palm there shot a beam of orange light. She muttered some words Bard could not catch, and in the next moment, the lock on his cell door had fallen to the floor.

'I cannot thank you eno -' he started, but when Bard turned, she was already gone.

Below the gaol window, Cauna blinked back to her darker hair and eyes. She stepped onto Thorin's sword once more and secured Astra, who had been stuck, speechless and immobile out of sight, in her grip.

'You see him in the distance?' Cauna murmured, pointing at Smaug's form, still cutting through the air as slowly as a knife through hard butter. 'When we are away and safe, I think I will return him his speed, that he might unleash his claws and fiery breath into this miserable little dock town.

'Yes,' she said to herself, 'he shall have some play. But at the end of all things, I have little energy to compete with a fire-drake for power in this world. The Bowman will rise to the challenge of his bloodline. He will defeat the beast. After a little mayhem, naturally.

'Meanwhile,' she turned back to meet Astra's alarmed eyes, 'I need to take back what is rightfully mine.'

By the time the navy sky turned fully pale, Cauna had flown Astra out to the forest edge across from the enormous lake on which the town sat. She landed them further towards the centre to ensure they would be hard to reach.

With Astra still frozen in a standing position, arms stuck to her sides, Cauna had no problem whatsoever tying her to a sturdy tree with a coil of rope she had swiped from the gaol's dock.

Once she was bound, Cauna finally released Astra from the immobility spell. She slumped forward, spluttering and groaning as she tried to stay upright - her legs were like fallen stone pillars.

'Come, Astra, at least gather enough strength to look me in the eye.'

She gritted her teeth and did so, not out of obedience, but to face this nightmare that had come back and stolen her sister.

'Good, that's good.'

'Why…why are you doing this?' Astra rasped. '_How _are you doing this?'

'I was always going to do this,' said Cauna. She knelt down to Astra's level. A cold breeze ruffled the trees around them on the first morning of Winter. 'You remember less than your twin of that night, but I know you remember being hit.'

Astra shuddered, still trying to regain control of her body.

'Stoic sister, even you felt me simmering at the surface in moments of flared temper, moments at which you were most powerful. Part of me almost wishes that you had been dragged to the mountain in Ember's place. You could have been even more than you are with my magic. But no matter.'

The witch slowly clasped a hand over each of Astra's temples, with enough strength to keep from being shaken off.

'Finally, it is time to bring past and future into _my _present.'

Birds overhead were sent spiralling off course by a tremendous burst of green light. Lost somewhere in the ferocity of this display were Astra's screams.

Cauna herself hissed between clamped teeth, as her old power of pastsight painfully fused itself back with her blood. When the green light eventually flashed away and she felt it safe to do so, Cauna relinquished Astra, whose head fell limply back against the tree, eyes closed.

The witch staggered backwards, unable to see for visions, one after another, of past and future, of a hundred different things in such quick succession she had no idea what they were. Until they slowed, gradually, like a spinning wheel on dying momentum. Cauna knew not to fight the disorientation; she soaked up the pastsight like a sponge hurled into the sea, and suddenly there was clarity.

'The hobbit,' she muttered, blinking her eyes open. She saw Astra's memory of Bilbo Baggins before they set off into Mirkwood, and felt similarly drawn to the object concealed in his pocket. A ring…_the _ring.

Cauna raised herself to standing, steady enough on her feet to stare at the Lonely Mountain in the distance. It was as though she could see him now, cowering in the wake of Smaug, the One Ring of Power still sitting in his waistcoat like a harmless trinket. But he knew it was more than that. None of them had yet realised the sheer magnitude of the Ring's magic, none but Cauna, who felt the bittersweet darkness of what was to come in later decades.

The youngest Darell sister could wait. Reeling and restless from additional power, Cauna resolved to stop at nothing before closing her hands around the Ring, and the Arkenstone, both of which transfixed her in temptation.

Flying would be too conspicuous, and too quick - Cauna had enough energy to march to the mountain on foot. She left Astra tied to the tree, alone, to die at nature's hand.


	3. The Downfall of Smaug

**Chapter Three **

**The Downfall of Smaug **

**A/N:****So I saw BOFA on Thursday…Our poor, poor Dwarves. On the upside, the film has given me an excellent visual base to work off now. Doesn't mean the events will be the same though, oh no sir. Not by any means ****_*sinister author's laugh*_**

One of Cauna's few redeeming qualities was her patience. At least, patience during spectacles she took a strange sort of pleasure in watching anyway, such as Smaug finally laying siege to the ramshackle Lake-town.

She sat cross-legged on the opposite shore, tracing shapes in the coarse sand and following the dragon's flight path. Fleetingly, she wondered if Bard, along with most of the townspeople, had found his children and made them run as fast as they could. If not, they would most certainly die today. Sadness brushed her heart like a feather, and just as quickly fell away.

A collective scream rose from the town like a surging wave as Smaug came into view, even before he had opened his immense jaws to roar out fire.

Cauna watched, attentive and unsmiling, as the fire-drake started small, hitting one or two buildings at a time, as if practicing his aim after being out of touch with Middle Earth for so long. Some of the screams grew louder and shriller; some ceased altogether.

'Oh do come on and put up something resembling a fight,' she muttered, glancing down at the shapes she'd traced. They were all cuboids with lines pointing outwards: shining Arkenstones. Her subconscious was clearly favouring the gem over the Ring at this time.

As smoke turned the air above Lake-town to black curtains, Cauna at last saw a faint flurry of arrows spit up at the dragon. When they did not miss, they simply bounced off his burnished scales. Cauna shook her head and sighed, vaguely tempted to finish the beast off herself just to speed up the process.

'Ugh, but that is too much effort to ask of myself,' she sighed, jaw resting in her palm. 'After all I have been through, no. A good witch knows which battles are worth fighting.'

It seemed as though the sky had always been burnt orange. House after flimsy house fell like tissue too close to a candle. Any birdsong from the forest behind Cauna was overpowered by terrified cries.

She could make out dark specks on the smoky waterline - boats. Blackened little boats. Cauna could not yet make out anyone aboard, they were so far away. They could have been pulled by ghosts.

In the midst of these reflections, her attention was suddenly rerouted: Smaug had come, not to land as such, but to prowl, his marble eyes on something specific.

Cauna could not distinguish the guttural words that followed from his snout, but knowing the beast, he was baiting and boasting. She squinted - he was crawling towards a tower.

Out of nowhere, the dragon reeled, a strangled noise emanating from his scaly throat. It was only when the smoke clouds began to clear that she realised the bowman had actually done the job. The last black arrow had lodged itself firmly into Smaug's body, which toppled like fifty trees at once onto the remains of Lake-town.

'Well well, sir,' Cauna said aloud, an eyebrow raised, 'you have made good on your family's name.'

She moved to a standing position, dashes of pebble falling from Ember's singed clothing. She brushed her palms of shore dust, keeping her dark eyes fixed on the lake all the while.

'Savour the honour, bowman. Savour the glory while you can, for soon no one's name will be as great as mine.'

A disturbance of shingles caught her attention. One of the specks had made it all the way to the safety of shore, leagues ahead of the other boats. When Cauna saw who was on it, she could hardly be surprised.

'Oh, thank the Valar, most of the gold is still on board!' the Master wheezed, fussing over every coin that fell onto his boots as his pathetic servants hurried to moor the boat securely.

'Although goodness knows what we lost when those wretched Dwarves crashed into us - heathens! And Bard's brats…couldn't ask for a worse mix, I tell you. I hope they met their comeuppance -'

He lost the ability to continue with words when he happened to see Cauna standing mere feet from the side of the boat. His servants remained very still, none of them sure how the woman had got so close in the wink of an eye.

For a few seconds no one said anything or moved anywhere. Cauna simply took in the treasures spilling from the centre of the boat. It was a miracle it reached the shore without sinking.

'Gold is not where happiness is found.'

'I b-beg your pardon?' spluttered the Master. When Cauna returned his stare he wished he hadn't said a word.

'I take happiness from abstracts,' she said, as though this were a conversation about the weather. Smoke continued to blanket the sky. 'From moments of achievement. Success. Power. Surely you know all about that, you gouty sphere of fat and slime?'

The Master looked as though his world had been smashed with a hammer. His servants looked as though they'd been waiting for this moment all their lives.

'Behold,' said Cauna, dropping her voice, but remaining as eerily cheerful as ever, 'your loyal subjects near land.'

The Master jerked his sweaty head to see a fleet of boats clear the flaming debris of Lake-town, groans and sobs riding the ashen air.

'Well?' said Cauna, her voice practically a whisper. 'Where is your happiness now? Where is your power? They will have your head.'

The Master turned back and decided to expend all the fury building in his puffy cheeks on her.

'And what would a stupid escort like you know of power? I still have power - I am the Master of this town, whatever state it may be in! I have more power than you could dare to dr -'

Just as a soaked and choking Alfrid dragged himself ashore, having been unceremoniously shoved off the Master's barge, he froze at the sight of the Master, standing as if a hook was tugging at the back of his neck, clutching his throat as a line of red appeared messily across it. There were some seconds of gasping for air, and then there was only a tremendous clatter - the Master's massive body keeled over in the boat, causing a further avalanche of gold coins.

Without having to check he was there, Cauna glanced to her left at Alfrid, her expression indifferent as she rubbed her index finger and thumb together, as if having just singed her skin on a flame.

'That is what happens to those who bore me.'

The master-less servant took breaths as shallow as the waters through which he tried to scurry backwards. Cauna took a step forward, hand still raised.

'Are you a boring wretch, or are you a coward? Decide quickly and wisely.'

'Shore! Get to shore, make haste!'

Cauna stopped short of killing Alfrid, just to keep up her practice, as soon as she clocked just how close the survivors from Lake-town were getting. Particularly if the Dwarves and Elves were on one of these boats, she needed to clear the area immediately, lest they reappeared as a sizeable nuisance in her newly regained life.

A faint vision flickered over her eyes, barely there at all, but she saw the Dwarf princes clearly enough: the only thing greater than their anger was their determination, as they steered the boat carrying Bard's daughters.

Cauna left the shivering, dripping Alfrid and his fellow servants to make sense of their unfolding calamity, while she disappeared like a smoke trail into the trees. She would wait and watch, watch and follow, however long that would take, as long as it led her to the Arkenstone and the One Ring. Her patience was, after all, unparalleled. And it was not in these objects that she would find happiness, but in the terrible power they could afford her.

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed! If you did, please review. If you didn't, please review anyway. Feedback is good.


	4. Revival

**Chapter Four **

**Revival **

**A/N: ****...oh hai there. I know, I know. 6 months. That's like a spill-coffee-down-your-best-interview-shirt embarrassingly long time not to post, but I promise, whether it takes weeks, months or years, this story will get finished (and then some!) So if any of you loyal readers are left, thank you for your enduring patience, you shall be rewarded. And for any new readers out there, if you haven't read 'Starsight' before, AVERT YOUR EYES, GO AND READ IT FIRST.**

The first thing the survivors did was secure their boats and make room for more. Cries filled the air like rain - loved ones had been lost to the dark waters forever. But most of the population had escaped the raging fires and toxic dragon smoke in time, albeit with few possessions.

They did not make much of the Master's death - they lacked the energy to cheer as loudly as they wished. What they did do was roll his body into the water with rocks tied around his swollen ankles, thanking his unknown assassin for the lone piece of good news that day.

When Bard made it ashore, feeling more like a charcoal husk than a man, he neither heard the praise sung in his ears nor felt the pats on his singed back. It was only when he saw Tilda and Sigrid's faces, felt their arms wrap around him like locks, that he remembered himself, and the townspeople. His people.

As for Alfrid, Bard caught him torn between two unnerving states of mind: his usual disgruntled selfishness, and an unusual anxiety, as if he'd witnessed something so horrendous it couldn't be repeated in words. Bard was quick to quell both Alfrid's attitude and the wrath of the townspeople against him. Once that was done, he busied himself helping to set up shelters, and fetching blankets for the shivering wounded.

'Da?' said Sigrid, her arms burdened with firewood, 'What are you looking for?'

'Hm? Oh, not what,' said Bard, continuing to crane his neck, 'But who…Have you seen either of the redheaded twins ashore? Ember, by chance?' Sigrid stared at him in silence long enough to make him stare back. 'What is it?'

'Why do you ask after her?'

'She used her magic to break the lock on my gaol cell,' said Bard, keeping his voice down and out of earshot. 'If not for her help, I would not be standing here.'

'She…_freed_ you?' said Sigrid, almost dropping the broken branches. 'I don't understand.'

'Why do you look so troubled?'

Sigrid realised that he truly knew nothing of the witch's evil. She felt a surge of anger - her father had been duped…but why? Why would the witch do something good?

'Da,' she said, catching Tauriel's eye in the distance, 'There's something important you need to know…'

It was difficult not to look back at the unfolding carnage. But Fili and Kili knew they had to press on as soon as their borrowed boat - one of the very first amongst the others - hit the shore. Sigrid and Tilda had pointed the way to the edge of the forest, but avoided joining the search - they had been too anxious about why Bain had decided to leap from their boat and run through flame tongues and lethal smoke.

Fili and Kili left the boat behind and weaved through the survivors, who distributed provisions to displace their trauma. They had no time to stop - Bofur and Oin would be halfway to the Lonely Mountain by now, and they had to find Astra sooner rather than later.

'If anything's happened to her,' Fili muttered as they dashed between winter trees, 'If Cauna's hurt her, so help me by the Valar I will kill her - sorry.'

He glanced at Kili, running alongside. His face was stony, but not because of Fili's words.

'Don't be,' he said, jumping over a small ditch, 'If it were me, I would say the same. Let's just find Astra, then we can decide what to do about Cauna. She must answer to her crimes.'

They ran for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes. Time disappeared altogether, leaving only wind through pine needles and the clatter of rocks upturned in the wake of their steps. Then Fili caught ribbons of red and white to his left.

'Over there!'

He couldn't believe his own sight until he and Kili leapt into the small clearing. Astra was alone and immobile. Fili's weapons thudded on the earth, as did his knees. He wondered distractedly why her face felt so numb before tearing his winter gloves from his hands. The joy of his skin brushing hers was marred by the absence of heat, a lack of life.

'No, no no no,' he whispered, faster and faster until the sounds blended into one another, like a flurry of dying leaves. He cupped her neck to feel for a pulse. Standing behind him, Kili stopped breathing to help his brother concentrate that much more. They waited. A creeping frost speared Fili's fingertips. Then he felt it: a shiver of blood, tumbling down a vein at the surface of Astra's neck, confused and alone before another followed. A pause. Another. Fili exhaled in a reverse gasp, as if having forgotten how to breathe in the first place.

'She lives. Cut her binds, she lives!'

KIli surged forward with a dagger and obeyed his brother, freeing Astra from the tree trunk so she could fall into Fili's waiting arms. Her face flickered with vague disorientation, but her eyes remained closed. Her breath barely turned white.

'Feel her shoulder, it's in a bad way,' said Fili, 'All cramped and stiff.'

'It never healed properly since the river,' said Kili. 'We must get her to the Mountain. Home.'

Though he struggled to stand with a body taller than his, Fili found the strength to gather Astra in his arms, her neck resting on the edge of his shoulder.

'What did the witch do to her to make her like this?' Kili said as they slalomed back through the trees. A sweat was already breaking out on Fili's brow.

'I shudder to think of it.'

Legolas winced as Tauriel finished wrapping the makeshift bandage (a green strip torn from her own jacket) over his hand.

'I wish I could tell my father exactly what I make of your banishment face to face.'

'There will be time for that later,' Tauriel murmured. 'But presently, we must ready a horse for Gundabard.'

'If we leave now we should reach there by - look.'

Tauriel, along with many Laketowners on the immediate stretch of shore, looked: Kili moved like a young stag in comparison to his brother, who staggered under the weight of an unconscious Astra.

'Kili!' Tauriel exclaimed, before reeling in her attention. 'What happened? Is she -'

'Dead? No, not yet, hopefully never,' Fili said - or rather, babbled. 'Her heart still beats, but she won't wake.'

'She needs warming up,' said Bard, who was hurrying their way with a singed red blanket over one arm, 'Wrap her in this. If you help us gather supplies for shelter, we will help take care of her.'

'Thank you, but we cannot stay,' said Kili. He turned his head just as Tauriel's face fell. 'We don't know what has become of our kin in the Mountain, and now that I'm well enough to travel we can waste no more time in rejoining them.'

'Very well,' said Bard, too exhausted to object. 'Take one of the boats - we will not need them on foot.'

'Thank you, thank you,' said Fili, folding the offered blanket around Astra with as much care as his shivering hands could muster. Not even her eyelids moved.

'Are you all right?' Kili said to both Tauriel and Legolas.

'Yes,' Tauriel replied, wishing she could say more. 'How is your leg? Your Dwarf friend was lucky to bring the Athelas when he did - without it, I would not have been able to heal you.'

'You -' Kili stopped the flow of words as his memories adjusted themselves to the truth. '…You healed me. Of course, that makes so much more sense. She hadn't yet come down from the mountain.'

'I don't understand - oh.' Tauriel bit her lip and, with it, her words. She could feel something in her chest shrink and wither like a burnt flower. 'Oh, I see. You imagined Ember was there in the room.'

'I mistook dreams for reality,' Kili sighed heavily, before raising his head again to Tauriel's face, 'When in truth you were the one who saved my life. For that, light really does radiate from you.'

The Elf couldn't help but beam. Legolas looked stoically on and said nothing. Meanwhile, Bard helped Fili tuck Astra into a modestly sized boat, intact from the dragon-fire.

'Come, brother.'

'All right.' Kili opened his mouth to bid the Elves goodbye, but Tauriel held up a hand and stepped towards the boat.

'Wait, perhaps there is one last thing I may do for you.'

The soles of her boots were quickly soaked as she waded into the cold shallows, hands untying the bow of her forest green outer cloak. She laid it over Astra's chest.

'When you are able,' she said, breath ghosting the chilly air, 'Exchange her bloodied shirt for this, otherwise the wound on her shoulder will be aggravated.'

'I will - we will,' said Fili, nodding, boarding the boat and hoisting its small anchor all at the same time. 'Thank you, again.'

'Tauriel?'

'Yes, Kili?' She turned on the shore to find his mother's rune stone sitting in his open palm. Instinctively she shook her head, fighting the urge to touch it if only because it would mean touching his skin.

'Take it, please.'

'But it is your Promise - I cannot…'

'I insist,' he said, pressing it into her hand and causing her withered heart to flutter anew. 'We will find some way to repay you in full, once these dark times are past us.'

**A/N:****I know I don't really deserve reviews after making you wait so long but...review anyway, pretty please?**


	5. Return to Erebor

**Chapter Five**

**Return to Erebor**

******A/N:****NEW MINI CHAPTER, YAY. You know what to do: read and review! (such rhymes, very poetry)**

Bilbo didn't know how to feel inside the mountain. The others watched the destruction of Laketown in silence, but Bilbo couldn't stand it - the only activity he could think to occupy himself with in the meantime was aimlessly wandering from room to vast room in the kingdom of Erebor.

Except, it felt nothing like a kingdom. There was no grandeur, no beauty, only death. In the hall of treasure, Bilbo heard Ember's gasps of pain; on the stone bridges, he saw the angry burns on her skin and the hollows of her eyes as she fought to distract Smaug; in the Gallery of Kings, he heard her voice possessed by Cauna's, corrupted and twisted into something toxic. Eventually he circled his way back up to the frosty ledge by the hidden Mountain door. Thorin stood apart from the rest of the Dwarves, eyes fixed on nothing and everything.

'Well?' Bilbo said to Balin, whose beard had turned from clean white to drained grey. He didn't know what he was expecting from his question. It was more to say something at all.

'The town is burnt to a crisp, but,' sighed Balin, 'Smaug is dead.'

'What? He's _dead_?' gasped Bilbo.

'Fell out of the sky, entirely extinguished.'

'Well…good. The one good thing I've heard all day.'

'Look,' said Ori, to everyone, with his head tilted parallel to the encroaching morning and an index finger pointing upwards. They all (Thorin included) did the same, to find a storm of dark birds rolling over the landscape.

'The ravens are returning home,' said Balin.Bilbo had no idea what that meant.

The sky was well into morning by the time Bofur and Oin reached the Front Gate. Ori's ears proved to be as keen as his eyes - he heard their calls from several rooms below the entrance and dashed from doorway to doorway before Bilbo, Balin, Dwalin, Nori, Dori, Gloin, Bombur, Bifur and Thorin assembled with him upstairs.

'Here at last!' Dwalin exclaimed. 'Welcome home, cousins.'

'You look drained, brother,' said Gloin.

'Eh?' said Oin, tapping his repaired ear trumpet, 'Pained? Only in my feet, we've been walking for an age.'

'Where are Fili and Kili?' said Thorin, his eyes and voice anxious.

'They said they'd be on their way as soon as they're able,' said Bofur, torn between looking at his kin's faces and all around the immense halls of Erebor.

'Why, where are they now?' said Bilbo, 'What are they doing?'

'Ohhh lads,' said Bofur, shaking his head, 'You are not going to believe what's happened this past day and night'.

Right then and there at the Front Gate, despite his sleep deprivation and singed hat, Bofur launched into a condensed but accurate report of the Orc attack on Bard's home, Kili's magic-fused recovery, Cauna's return, and Astra's abduction.

'It all went so fast I still haven't had time to make sense of it,' Bofur finished, breathless. 'How did this happen to Ember? What happened up here?'

There followed a very specific kind of silence: the kind composed of one person looking to another, and another, and another, to begin a confession.

'What about the people of Laketown?' said Ori, about to combust with anxiety. 'Are there many survivors?'

'Aye, and they're preparing to move as we speak,' said Oin, 'Towards Dale.'

'_What?_' growled Thorin.

'We can't exactly be surprised,' said Balin, 'Now that the beast is slain, who knows how quickly word will spread that Erebor is finally safe to inhabit once more?'

This statement gave Thorin pause for thought; without another word, he slipped outside and called down a raven from one of the rocky ledges. Only Bilbo seemed to think Thorin's muttering incomprehensible gibberish to the bird at all strange.

'Um, Thorin - Thorin?' he said as the Dwarf King strode purposefully back the way he came, returning to his treasures just out of sight. He looked to the others for some kind of explanation, but they were too busy welcoming Bofur and Oin into Erebor.

Only Ori and Balin stood a little apart from the gathering, the latter casting torn glances between indoors and outdoors. Ori tentatively shuffled towards the eldest Dwarf.

'Balin…'

'Yes lad.'

'You look troubled.'

'In case it has escaped your notice, there's more to be troubled about than there is treasure in those halls!'

His voice surged unexpectedly in volume on those last words, but no one appeared to notice. The other Dwarves moved further into the halls under the Mountain. Ori shifted his weight from foot to foot.

'What Thorin did was…not good,' the young Dwarf said gravely, reluctant to speak too venomously of his King, 'But you shouldn't shoulder the guilt.'

Balin leaned an elbow against a wall. Ori continued:

'And perhaps this would have happened anyway, later, even if Thorin had done nothing. The witch put her evil soul into Ember seven years before anyone even conceived of this quest. We all saw what happened on the boat…It's a horrible mess. But it was only a matter of time before Cauna resurfaced.'

Balin turned his gaze away from the resting ravens and gave his friend a sad smile.

'Ori, you're shaping up to be a wise Dwarf indeed. I appreciate your efforts to lessen our guilt, but the fact is, Thorin alone made the decision. He could have missed a window of opportunity to defeat Smaug in order to save an innocent woman's life, but he did not. Instead, his actions have brought a cataclysmic group of problems upon all our heads, at the worst possible time.' The old Dwarf's face suddenly crumpled, and he brought a hand to shield his glistening eyes. 'She did nothing to deserve this,' he sobbed. 'From the first evening and beyond, she only wanted to help us - how have we repaid her? With death!'

Ori stood still and let Balin weep a while, making sure no one else was around, and doing his best to keep his own tears in. Eventually, Balin composed himself.

'Ori….Keep this exchange to yourself. For the sake of morale.'

'Of course.'


	6. Deprived

**Chapter Six**

**Deprived**

**A/N:** **Wow, okay, 2100 words in one evening, there's some serious storying going on here. Can you tell I have a lot of free time right now? Anyway, happy reading, please review and follow so you can get brand new chapters as they come, hot off the backlit keyboard!**

'By Dwalin's beard…'

'Our home.'

It was well into afternoon by the time Fili and Kili reached the summit of the Lonely Mountain with Astra in tow, still unconscious. Early winter clouds veiled the sun, but the Dwarves keenly felt the sweat that had condensed beneath their many layers.

Fatigue, anxiety, and rubble aside, the Front Gate was sacred enough to make the Princes' hearts swell with pride. They could finally step over the threshold of the home they had never known.

Several times Kili had offered to carry Astra for a while to take the strain off his brother, but to no avail. Fili behaved as though holding her without letting go for a second was the only thing keeping her alive. So it was that Kili went ahead down flight after flight of stairs, Fili carefully descending behind, calling out to the Company:

'Uncle? Balin? Bofur? Is anyone alive - we're here! We need help!'

'Wait, WAIT!'

A pair of feet flapped against the stone steps two at a time. Kili's face lit up. 'It's Bilbo!' he called to Fili, who panted, 'He's alive?!'

'Stop, stop!' gasped the hobbit, raising his hands as they all ended up on the same bottom step, 'You need to leave, we _all_ need to leave.'

Fili's eyes practically popped out of his head, as if to say, _Now is not the time for jokes_.

'But…we just got here,' said Kili, equally stunned.

'And we can't leave,' said Fili, grunting as he stopped Astra from falling out of his grasp, 'Cauna's done something terrible to Astra, she's out cold, we must revive her!'

'Oh no,' said Bilbo, 'Oh no, oh _dear_…all right, but before you go any further, you both must listen to me - I've tried talking to him but he just won't listen.'

'Who won't listen?' said Kili.

'Thorin,' Bilbo said grimly, pointing down to the hall of treasure, 'He's been down there for hours. Hasn't slept, hasn't eaten. He's not himself. It's this place. A sickness lies on it.'

'A sickness?' echoed Kili. He had only ever heard that word in muttered rumours - to hear Bilbo say it filled him with unease. 'What kind of sickness?'

'See for yourself,' Bilbo sighed. He nodded at Astra. 'I'll call the others, see what we can do to bring her round.'

'Thank you my friend,' said Fili, moving towards the Hall with Kili. What they walked into briefly stole all power of speech from their throats. Even at the furthest boundaries of their imaginations, neither of them had pictured such wealth. Jewels of all colours and winks of diamond dotted a literal ocean of gold coins, their shine brought out by ensconced fires. From the depths of this awed silence came a clinking sound, the overlapping whispers of coins as they fell over each other, knocked aside by feet at a slow, deliberate pace.

'Gold.' Fili and Kili looked down at their uncle as he appeared from behind a pillar. It was unclear whether or not he had seen them - he appeared to be talking to himself. 'Gold beyond measure. Gold beyond grief. The treasure hoard of Thror.'

Without warning, he turned his head to meet his nephews' stares, and unblinkingly tossed something their way. As Fili's arms were occupied, Kili caught it: a glittering ruby the size of his fist.

'Welcome, my sister's sons, to the kingdom of Erebor.'

He showed no signs of surprise or delight at seeing them, nor any acknowledgement that Astra was incapacitated. Kili understood Bilbo's anxiety completely.

'It's…an honour to be home,' he said, suddenly feeling the need to lie down and sleep for several weeks.

'There they are!' came another voice. Ori hurried from upstairs with Dwalin just behind. He grinned tiredly at Fili and Kili. 'Bofur and Oin said you'd be on your way, how good to see you both unharmed! But Astra -'

'I've tried all I can think of, but she won't wake,' said Fili. He began protesting when Dwalin took Astra from his arms, but was quickly shut down: 'You look like you're about to keel over, laddie. Just follow us.'

This they did. Bilbo had successfully got the rest of the company - bar Thorin - into what looked like an old, long-neglected dining hall. Bofur and Bifur cleared a long table for Dwalin to set Astra upon, sending sizeable clouds of dust and cobwebs into the air.

'You say she won't wake?' said Oin, stepping back into his appointed role as healer despite having had no sleep all night. Fili shook his head miserably. 'What've you tried so far?'

'Calling her name, shaking her, even throwing some lake water on her face,' he said, gesturing to damp patches on Tauriel's donated cloak.

'At least you found her alive,' said Bofur, but without a grain of his usual cheer.

'She's mighty pale,' said Oin, taking a pulse from her limp wrist, 'But not from blood loss, least not that I can see.'

'We do not know what the witch did to her,' said Kili, looking worriedly between Astra and Fili, 'How can we cure her if we don't know what harm has been caused?'

'I may have something,' said Balin, weaving through the others towards a cupboard that probably hadn't been touched for decades. More dust. Items rattled against one another as Balin rooted around for something inside, until finally he returned with a vial of what looked like blue ash.

'Dare I ask what that is?' said Bilbo.

'My memory's not about to get old yet,' said Balin with no small amount of triumph. 'One of the head kitchen chefs used to be struck by the most violent fainting spells, so these smelling salts were kept all over this wing. It's certainly worth a try. Although…goodness knows how concentrated this'll be after years of sitting undisturbed…I'd stand back if I were you, lads.'

With some coaxing, Fili stepped well back from the table with the rest of them, while Balin took a large gulp of air before uncorking the vial. He held it underneath Astra's nose and waved it about a little, to stir up the contents. Bilbo felt his own nose twitch as echoes of the salts found their way to him - it was like the strongest vinegar boiled with the purest alcoholic spirits.

For three very tense seconds, nothing happened. Then Astra's face screwed itself into a frown, her hands jerked into life, and her eyes snapped open. She reflexively pushed Balin's arm away (with such force that he fell off the table) and started spluttering.

'Oh - ack - gah - what - where - Fi -'

She didn't get time to finish Fili's name as he threw his arms around her. Eyes wide and bloodshot, she was incapable of doing anything but embracing him back. Her gasps turned to hyperventilation.

'Where - is she - I'll - do you know what -'

'Oh, oh Astra,' said Fili, catching her just as she slid off the table, her legs without very much feeling. 'Easy now, look at me. Look at me.'

'Fili.' With his hands around her wrists, she sat on the edge of the dining bench, reeling from disembodiment.

'You're safe, Astra, you're safe. Do you know where you are?'

She shook her head, uninterested in the surroundings.

'You're in Erebor, dear,' said Balin, trying to be positive for her. But from her catatonic gaze into nothing, they could all sense that she was not in a good place. Astra tilted her head, as though listening out for something, and moved her hands up and down Fili's arms. Then she placed a hand on the table, then a dusty candlestick, before going still again.

'We thought,' Kili began, wary of what his words could do, 'When she took you, we feared the worst. Astra, what did she do to you?'

He didn't have to utter her name; he had no desire to.

'She took it,' said Astra, her voice a shell of what it normally was. 'She took back the pastsight…'

Her hands turned themselves over. Astra looked at them and made a rapid gesture, as if throwing a net into the air. She snapped one hand's fingers whilst repeatedly muttering something, her brow furrowed with intense concentration. Nothing came of it. Her face returned to its absent state.

'…She took all of it. All my magic, it's gone.'

'What?' said half the room. Fili and Kili sat on either side of Astra with a hand on her shoulder. She looked asleep with open eyes.

'Where is the witch now?'

All heads except Astra's turned to the doorway: Thorin had left his hoard for the time being.

'Where is she now?' Astra parroted mechanically, 'Where Ember used to be. I don't know. But from what she said before - before it all went black - once she was through with me, she would go after Quill, Isis, our mother. Even death cannot stop her. Not until she's the sole witch left in Middle Earth will she stop. And there's not a thing I can do about it.'

The only spell that came about from her words was a spell of silence, crisp to the point of pain.

'Though it hurts me to ask,' Kili said, reigniting the company's attention, 'I feel I must: how did Cauna possess Ember? I thought the witch died when she imparted her magic all those years ago. But more importantly, what chance is there of bringing Ember back?'

This time the Dwarves knew there was no avoiding it. It was time for the truth to come out.

'None, Kili,' said Thorin. 'There is no doubt in it - Ember is dead. Cauna controls her body, but nothing more remains.'

'How can you be sure?' said Kili, his voice tightening.

'Because I watched her die,' Thorin replied. He sounded hollow, but whether from shame or from a total absence of feeling was anyone's guess. 'She was not supposed to be there. It was an accident - a mistake. At the time I thought it our only chance to slay Smaug.'

'…What are you talking about?' said Kili, narrowing his eyes. 'What do you mean it was a _mistake_? Someone, tell me what happened!'

So, in spare but accurate terms, Thorin explained the grossly unfortunate way in which their plan had intersected with Ember's attempts to flee the dragon, and everything afterwards. When he was finished, his nephew's hands were shaking.

'She is dead because of you.'

'I never meant for it to happen -'

'Clearly you did!' Kili snapped. 'You could have refrained from releasing the gold. You could have helped her. But no, you were so bent on defeating Smaug, and it never even came to pass! She died for nothing, Thorin, _NOTHING_!'

'Kili, you are losing your head.'

'I have every right to! I never would have done what you did. No leader of honour would have done what you did.'

'Now, Kili…' Balin began, ever the reluctant peacekeeper. But his words fell on deaf ears.

'She never mattered to you, did she? Never more than a means to an end.' Kili's eyes shone like pebbles after a receding tide. A hand pressed against his chest. 'But she mattered to _me_. I - I was falling for her.'

It was not only the first time he'd said it aloud, but the first time he'd admitted it to himself at all. The words stung his heart one by one. Though he could not see it, Astra looked his way with her lips parted, her first movement in a long while. Kili swallowed his oncoming tears like whiskey.

'You may be King under the Mountain,' he said flatly, 'But as of today, you are no longer my kin.'

He stormed out of the dining hall, practically scorching the air with fury in his wake. Thorin sighed long and hard, but remained expressionless. Bilbo and the rest of the company felt torn and awkward in equal, agonising measure. Dwalin made as if to go after Kili, but Gloin held him back.

'Leave him be. He wants to be alone, so we'll let him.'

'Astra?' Fili said softly, rocking her by the shoulder ever so slightly, 'Astra, please say something. You're beginning to scare me.'

She breathed evenly for a moment, arms resting on her knees, as if not having heard anything he'd said. In fact, she was so lethally calm, Ember might as well have been alive and sitting beside her. At least, until she reached for the nearest dust-caked goblet, swept it off the dining table, and threw it against the wall, sending a hundred glass splinters onto the floor. Even Thorin flinched.

Astra kept resolutely mute, pulled Tauriel's cloak tight around her arms, turned and walked out of the room, going to the left where Kili had gone right.


	7. It Burns

**Chapter Seven**

**It Burns**

**A/N:**** New chapter! Please make sure you review - I'll be sure to thank you personally in forthcoming chapters, and check out stories that you've written!**

'Any sign of it?'

'Not yet.'

'Nothing here.'

'Keep searching,' Thorin ordered.

'The jewel could be _anywhere_,' Gloin groaned, knee deep in chalices and gold chests, their corners poking uncomfortably at his joints.

'The Arkenstone is in these halls,' Thorin reiterated. 'Find it, all of you! No one rests until it is found.'

Though no one was particularly enjoying the so far thankless hunt, the Dwarves quietly agreed amongst themselves that it was better they all had something to occupy their time with, rather than dwell for too long on recent events.

Eventually night fell, and Thorin realised his orders to keep searching without rest would prove unfeasible, as his kin looked ready to fall asleep amongst the jewels then and there. He called off the search for a few hours' sleep, but only if they all awoke at dawn with renewed determination.

Sleeping arrangements had to be improvised at great length - after Fili was placed on the first night watch, Bilbo and the company laid out a resting area with blankets and sleeping rolls from their travelling supplies, as well as whatever spare materials they could find lying around the abandoned rooms. They needed it all to ward off the bitter night winds.

Kili came down to sleep, but made a point of dragging his blankets far away from the rest, into a solitary corner where he could face the wall and be under no obligation to speak to his uncle. As for Astra, Fili kept an eye on her from his position at the gaping front entrance: over his shoulder, several floors above, he could make out her figure on one of the bridges, legs hanging, back perfectly still. He could not see her expression, but knew better than to disturb her until morning.

Bifur was on the last night watch before sunrise, and when the others woke, he began gesturing to Bofur and speaking in rapid Khuzdul.

'The Elves are here?' he repeated in translation for Bilbo's benefit. Their faces lit up with alarm.

'What do they want?' said Dwalin.

'To pilfer that which does not belong to them,' said Thorin, scowling.

'Bifur says they brought carts of food,' Bofur interpreted, 'Apparently for the people of Lake-town.'

'Nice tactic,' noted Nori, 'To win over a few allies.'

'Then that settles it,' said Thorin, 'Today, we will continue searching for the Arkenstone as planned. But when sun sets, we must fortify our kingdom, rebuild the Front Gate. This Mountain is hard-won, I will not see it taken again.'

The plan was thus enacted. Hours melted away like the lake of gold in the Gallery of Kings (which no one had gone near since Smaug's escape). Thorin dug through the piles of treasure more vigorously than any of them, refusing to pause for most of the day. Ori and Balin put their skills of strategy to good use by suggesting moving across the hall from east to west, shifting all the searched treasure aside as they went.

After a lot of persuasion on Fili's part, and out of restless boredom, Astra and Kili came down to the hall. The three of them sifted half-heartedly through collections of jewels near the entrance, still neatly organized in drawers and chests. They knew the Arkenstone wouldn't turn up there, but the activity made for a sufficient distraction.

Kili moved to leave when Thorin walked over to them, but Fili put out a firm arm and forced him to stay seated.

'Simply ignore him if you must.'

'Fine.'

'Thranduil has a very particular taste in gems,' said Thorin, wearing an empty smile. He opened up a drawer they had not yet searched, and the jewels that lay inside gave off such a mesmerising glow, they might as well have been stars plucked from the night - Fili remarked as much.

'Indeed,' said Thorin, running his fingers over the crystals, 'The white gems of Lasgalen. The Elf-lord would pay a pretty price for these.' He tossed them back into the drawer without ceremony, before casting a wary glance at Kili. 'It brought me such relief to see you healed, Kili. Even if it was done by an Elf.'

The Prince stayed mute, throwing a handful of coins to the side.

'I hope you feel better rested now,' Thorin said, trying again, 'Did you sleep well in the night?'

'I have slept better,' he replied flatly.

'I found it!' came Bofur's voice, from the other side of the hall, 'Thorin, I've found it!'

Thorin suspended his attempts at reconciliation and sped away, skidding down hills of treasure. Kili, Astra and Fili stayed where they were.

'Aren't you curious to see it,' said Astra, her voice so lacking colour that the question hardly sounded like one.

'The excitement has very much worn off,' said Kili.

'As for me,' said Fili, reaching into the drawer of white gems, 'There are better things to gaze upon. Hold still.'

'Why,' said Astra, looking up from her feet to see two sparkling earrings hooked over Fili's fingers.

'Because these would look perfect on your ears.'

In that brief moment, the seemingly impossible happened: Astra smiled.

'Only you could distract me like that,' she said quietly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Dwarves (and Bilbo) huddled round the thing they'd been hunting all these months: nestled in a haphazard pile of coins and pearls, having flown from one side of the hall to another in the chaos with Smaug, the Arkenstone sat glowing, waiting.

'After all this time,' Bofur whispered, 'It's almost too precious to touch…Almost.'

The others chuckled as he bent down to pick it up. But no sooner had Bofur grasped the stone between his fingers than he yelped and let it fall again with a clatter.

'Ooh, ow! What the blazes -'

'What's the matter with you?' said Dwalin.

'It burned me!'

'What are you talking about?' said Thorin, grabbing it eagerly himself. But, though he tried to hold it in his palm, even he could not ignore the hissing wisp of smoke that cracked from the stone as it singed his flesh. Though it pained him to let go, it pained him more to continue holding it. The stone bounced back into the centre of their huddle and they all stared down at it, perplexed.

'I don't understand,' said Balin, 'It was never known to do that, not even when first mined from the Mountain.'

More of the Dwarves tried their hands at touching it, but the longest anyone could last was Ori, at a feeble ten seconds.

'Perhaps it's Smaug's doing,' Bilbo suggested, 'A kind of protection against thievery.'

'I would not put it past the beast,' Thorin nodded. He nudged it towards him with the toe of his boot. 'You try, Master Baggins, on the chance that it protects against Dwarves alone.'

Bilbo tentatively rose to the challenge. For a moment, there was hope: he cradled it in both hands for a full fifteen seconds, before the disappointing burn and hiss appeared. Bilbo threw the stone down and winced.

'Doesn't seem to like Hobbits very much either.'

'There's got to be _some _way around this,' said Dori.

'Could always wrap it in something for the time being,' said Nori.

'Unless we try one more person,' said Ori. With some trepidation, he called out: 'Astra?'

'Neither Hobbit nor Dwarf,' said Bilbo, nodding, 'If she doesn't mind…'

'Whether she minds or not is quite irrelevant,' Thorin muttered.

Coins spilled over one another as Astra walked their way, Fili and Kili a few steps behind.

'Astra,' Bilbo said as politely as possible, 'Would you mind just picking up the Arkenstone for a moment, please?'

'…Why.'

'Because none of us can,' he replied, not wanting to deceive her at such a delicate time. 'We wondered if you might.'

Astra sighed indifferently, but indulged the request. She stepped forward, knelt down, and scooped up the Arkenstone with ease. The Dwarves stared at the gem as it sat harmlessly in the middle of her hand.

'Should something be happening,' she said, frowning.

'It makes no sense,' said Balin, twiddling his beard, 'No sense at all. Why would the heart of a Dwarf kingdom spare the race of Men from its burns?'

'And why now?' Ori added. 'It's as if - as if it's changed its mind. Its loyalties.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Thorin, 'Gems, no matter how dazzling, have no faculties of their own.'

By now, twenty seconds had passed. Astra's fingers twitched before she smelled burning skin and gasped. The Arkenstone fell out of grasp once more, leaving Astra with a small red mark in the middle of her palm.

'Are you all right?' said Fili, taking her hand gently.

'Owch - yes, I'll be fine.'

'Well,' said Bofur with a shrug, 'At least it's here where it belongs, and though we may not touch it, we can certainly keep an eye on it.'

'True, Bofur, true,' said Thorin. He gave a gruff sigh. 'Nori, your idea to wrap it in cloth is needed after all. We will keep it on the throne, in its rightful place.'

When the sun set, Bilbo and the dwarves set to work blocking up the damaged Front Gate to prepare for the threat of war, which hung in the air like an oncoming thunderstorm. Astra, Fili and Kili contributed to the effort, but only to take the burden of such hard labour off of older members of the company, like Balin and Oin.

For the first hour, when orange sky gave way to black, no one spoke. Only a constant rhythm of grunts, rolling wheels, creaking ropes, and thudding rocks measured the passing of time. They used whatever sturdy material they could find amongst the rubble, right down to broken statues.

'Make good use of the smaller rocks,' Thorin called out, as he and Dwalin finished setting down a large chunk of stone halfway up the gate, 'We must ensure that not even an arm can breach this fortress. Bring more stone to the gate!'

At this break in the semi-silence, Kili set down the wheelbarrow full of rubble he and Bilbo had been rolling.

'The people of Lake-town have nothing, you know,' he said loudly, the first words he had initiated to Thorin since his return to Erebor. 'They come to us in need, they have lost _everything_.'

Thorin looked down at his nephew from atop the gate-in-progress.

'I am well aware of what they have lost,' he replied bluntly. 'Have you forgotten the hardship our people endured in the first desolation of Smaug? Those who have lived through dragon-fire have much to be grateful for. They should rejoice.'

'Did you?' Kili retorted, just audibly enough. He sent a withering look towards Thorin, who did not deign to counter, and returned to his duties without another word.


	8. Swift Summons

**Chapter Eight **

**Swift Summons**

**A/N:** Thank you NerdyHypsterKady for your lovely reviews (and your patience - guess my chapters are kind of like buses, they all just come at once!. All you other readers out there, I'd love to know who you are, so make yourselves known! *cough* review *cough* please *cough*

'A bargain was struck.'

The Company had been leaning over the makeshift balcony of the finished Front Gate from the moment Bard had approached it on his lone horse. He was speaking with Thorin through a tiny gap in the stonework; try though they did, the others could only hear Bard's side of the conversation.

'…Because you gave us your word,' he replied to whatever Thorin had said, affronted. 'Does that mean nothing?'

'I'd say not,' Astra muttered. Fill tightened his grip on her hand.

Thorin clearly did not take kindly to the bowman's rhetoric, for in the next moment, Bard returned to his saddle looking deeply vexed, and rode back to Dale without another word. As they watched him shrink in size down the fields, Thorin joined them at the balcony.

'I take it that didn't go well,' said Fili. Thorin looked quite unfazed.

'I would rather wear the mantle of a warrior than a hostage.'

'What are you doing?' said Bilbo, so anxious he couldn't bear to keep the words in. 'You _cannot_ go to war with them.'

'This does not concern you.'

'Excuse me, but just in case you haven't noticed, there is an army of Elves out there! Not to mention several hundred angry fishermen. We are, in fact outnumbered.'

'Not for much longer,' said Thorin with a cryptic smile.

'What does that mean?'

'It means, Master Baggins, that you should never underestimate Dwarves. We have reclaimed Erebor. Now, we defend it.'

On that note, he gave orders to further obstruct passage to the Front Gate by destroying a large chunk of the moat bridge below - Bifur, Dwalin and Bombur executed this with the enormous broken statue head of a former king.

For the remainder of the day, the Dwarves systematically went through the Erebor armoury, gathering swords, spears, breastplates and helmets that had been coated in dust and cobwebs for years. Astra and Bilbo stood outside the doorway, not thinking to take part in this exercise. Not, at least, until Thorin approached them with some curious, shiny items of clothing draped over his arm.

'You're going to need these. They are made of silver steel. Mithril, it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it. We have only found the two, so for the sake of equality amongst companions, it is only appropriate that, as our guest members, you have these most precious garments.'

'Not least because neither of us knows how to wield a sword,' said Astra, traces of her dry sense of humour remaining in spite of everything.

'…And that, yes.'

'Excuse me,' said Bilbo, 'Let's not forget who freed you from the Mirkwood spiders, hm? But, er, I certainly won't say no to a blade-proof vest.'

'Astra,' said Thorin, waiting until she reciprocated eye contact to continue, 'Though the vest is yours to keep, you're under no obligation to fight. Erebor is filled with safe rooms should you wish to take refuge. I…I might have failed your sister, but in earnest I - we all - will die before harm befalls you.'

Astra regarded him with an unreadable expression, opening and closing her mouth around ghosts of words.

'Are you all right?' Bilbo asked tactfully.

'I just don't wish to think on it - or much of anything - for too long,' she said, her voice once again hollow and unrecognizable. 'But, thank you.'

She left Thorin and Bilbo to cross the other side of the shadowy hallway, where Fili was trying on an ordinary chainmail shirt for size. Astra leaned against the doorway.

'How does it feel?'

'Heavy,' he replied, eyes brightening a little as they met hers, 'But not cumbersome. It feels long overdue. In truth, I have never been involved in a "proper" battle. A war.'

'If war has any upside at all, it's that you look all the more handsome preparing for it.'

Meanwhile, Bilbo had wriggled into his mithril vest, which was a little large on his small frame.

'I look absurd,' he groaned. 'I'm not a warrior, I'm a Hobbit.'

'It is a gift,' Thorin said firmly. 'A token of our friendship.'

'May I say something frank?'

'It is often the best way to speak.'

'Well, it's just…you made a promise to the people of Lake-town,' Bilbo sighed, trying to hammer his point home, 'Is this treasure truly worth more than your honour - _our _honour? Thorin, I was also there, I gave my word.'

'And for that I am grateful,' Thorin replied. 'It was nobly done. But the treasure in this Mountain does not belong to the people of Lake-town. This gold is ours. And ours alone. By my life, I will not part with a _single_ coin. Not. One. Piece of it.'

Bilbo couldn't help but take a step back. In that moment he realised how eerily familiar Thorin's words were - he sounded exactly like Smaug, possessive of his hoard until death. As the Dwarves began to march between them, suited in their armour of choice, Bilbo glanced to his left and saw Astra had heard it too. Her expression matched what he felt inside: distinct unease.

Beyond the Mountain, someone else was wearing armour: Cauna moved seamlessly amongst the Lake-towners as they organized themselves and tended to their camps around Dale. No one took notice of her - save for her eyes, every inch of her face and hair was veiled by a blue shawl she'd swiped from the blanket piles back on the shore. A basket decorated her arm, although without anything inside. It was simply there to sustain the illusion that she had somewhere to be, that her wandering had purpose; in a sense, it did - from the moment Thranduil and his Elf army arrived, Cauna knew that getting close enough to the Hobbit and his precious items might become that much easier. There was no cover like a host of soldiers.

Circumstances changed once again, however, when a violent clatter of hooves rang through the battered streets of Dale.

'Let me through, make way!'

Cauna barely had time to take cover behind a half-wrecked pillar before an unmistakeable figure galloped up the street in a flash of grey.

'No,' she whispered to herself, apprehensively following the horse's trail, 'Not now, not here, _why_…'

She lingered at the corner of the main square, where Gandalf had dismounted.

'Oi, you!' came the wretch Alfrid's voice, 'Pointy hat!'

'What a perfect imbecile,' Cauna muttered. Gandalf turned to face Alfrid, rightfully irked.

'Yes, you,' the servant continued, 'We don't want no tramps, beggars, nor vagabonds round 'ere. We got enough trouble without the likes of you. Off you go, on your horse.'

'Who's in charge here?' Gandalf barked.

'Who's asking?' said Bard from just behind, having heard the commotion.

'Gandalf the Grey, wizard and former member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield.'

'_Former_ member...From where have you travelled?'

Gandalf dropped his voice below eavesdropping volume, so Cauna didn't catch the location in question, but whatever it was made Bard go pale.

'It sounds like you have grave news to bear.'

'Indeed I do,' Gandalf said at normal speaking volume, 'Is there somewhere we may converse in private?'

'Of course, this way.'

Cauna cursed inwardly - of course the wizard would be wise enough to keep his full agenda to himself. His reputation proceeded him from East to West, something that Cauna envied so keenly it was like a burn on her heart.

She followed the wizard and the bowman several paces behind, her footsteps barely making a sound. They disappeared inside a tent - Cauna surmised it belonged to Thranduil, owing to the number of Elf guards stationed around it like a living fence. She took in the rest of the surroundings before noticing balconies lining the upper walls. They would do.

As they were deserted, Cauna was able to peek over these balconies and watch the tent, trying to make out even one fragment of the discussions. But her spying efforts were futile. She had once attempted to craft a spell that could increase the sensitivity of one's ears tenfold, but had been unsuccessful. So in a rare moment of powerlessness, she waited. The air grew colder and the sky darkened.

Then, without warning, Gandalf exited the tent on the other side, accompanied immediately by Bard and Thranduil. Gandalf was mid-sentence, and Cauna strained her ears for context:

'…His Master seeks control over the Mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, its strategic position. This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the North. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall.'

'These Orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir,' said Thranduil, his voice bordering on hypnotic, 'Where are they?'

Cauna stiffened at the mention of Orcs - she was certainly powerful enough to do away with one, but throughout history their numbers had always been too great. If there were whole armies of them on the march, then Cauna had all the more reason to get the Arkenstone and the Ring and flee as quickly as possible. She waited tensely for Gandalf to answer, but the half of his face that she could see indicated that he was paranoid of being overheard again. He turned and motioned to go back inside the tent.

'Oh now_ really -_' she exhaled in frustration, before clamping her jaw shut and ducking out of sight onto her elbows.

'Did you hear something?' said Thranduil. Cauna began calculating which spells to use if her cover were foiled.

'Probably Alfrid,' said Bard, at which Cauna silently sighed. 'He does like to lurk, the sorry wretch.'

She heard the flicker of tent curtains, waited a minute, and then peered over the ledge: they were back inside. She put a hand to her brow and chided herself - impatience was most unlike her, but this hunger for the gem and the ring was almost becoming too much to bear.

Cauna remained on the ledge well into nightfall, wrapped in her shawl and stolen layers. A hundred plans came to her mind, but all reached a dead end. Everything was still too unpredictable - the Hobbit would not be easy to get to tonight, whilst secure in the Mountain, and the Dwarves may not have even found the Arkenstone yet.

Nothing significant occurred for a stretch of time, until the tent curtains suddenly parted again to reveal Thranduil.

'Are the archers in position?' he asked one of his sentries.

'Yes, my lord.'

'Give the order. If anything moves on that Mountain, kill it. The Dwarves are out of time.'

At that moment, perhaps owing to Thranduil's choice of words or by sheer coincidence, Cauna had a vision, blurry and vague, but clear enough on one front: something would move on the Lonely Mountain tonight, but it would not be seen until it came waltzing right up to Dale, carrying the two most important objects in all of Middle Earth.

Cauna grinned beneath her veil.


	9. Lone Glow

**Chapter Nine **

**Lone Glow**

**A/N:**Again, thank you NerdyHypsterKady, your reviews give me life ^_^ Warning: the following scene contains moments of a *ahem* romantic and sexual nature. You have been warned. Please remove any children from the room unless now is the time you'd like to educate them about this part of life. Either way, proceed to read!

Astra was suddenly awake, her eyes blinking in uniform darkness. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep, or how close they were to dawn. She hoped it was as far away as possible.

She stiffly propped herself up on her elbows and guided her hands up the column against which she'd positioned her sleeping blankets. In the black night she heard a sea of sleeping breaths, with some of Bombur's snores thrown in for variation. It was deeply cold. Astra wrapped the blankets around herself and shuffled quietly along the walls, turning when she hit a corner - until she reached a bridge, lit by a lone torch and a sliver of moonlight, it was her only way of getting around.

She went to the balcony of the Front Gate to see who was on night watch - Kili sat alone, shivering under his own load of blankets and gripping a sword. He wasn't startled by her appearance - he simply turned his head and nodded at her.

'Can't sleep?'

Astra shook her head, feeling the imprint of dark circles, ruptured blood vessels, under her eyes, that had been there since she and Ember joined the quest.

'Neither could Fili.'

'Is he awake now,' said Astra, so quiet it was practically a mutter. Kili nodded and pointed a blanketed arm to the corridor behind him, on Astra's left.

'He went that way to the throne room, said he wanted to think.'

'So do I. Thank you.'

Kili nodded again, before holding up a hand.

'Astra, wait.' She took a step back. 'I know none of us want to speak of - but - I mean…Ember. Could she ever have loved me, do you think? Even were I not on watch at this hour, I don't think I could sleep. I keep asking myself what could have been.'

Astra pulled the blankets closer together over her shoulders and didn't answer straight away.

'Do you want the truth?'

'It's all I want.'

'I think she fell for you the moment you nearly shot her in the head.'

She was so deadpan that Kili couldn't help but laugh, just for a second, a brief outburst, before tears moistened his eyes. He nodded again.

'Thank you. I needed to hear that. I just…'

'I know,' Astra said. She left him on the balcony and padded down the corridor, dropping once more into darkness before the lone glow of a candle appeared behind the throne and guided her along the bridge, straight to Fili, who sat with his back against marble. The Arkenstone shone even more keenly at night, from its secure place at the top of the throne.

'I know why I can't sleep,' said Astra, as she stepped into his line of sight. 'What about you?'

'Now that all that stands between us and battle are a few hours of night, I find myself wishing they didn't end.'

Astra sat beside him and unwrapped her blankets to cover both their backs.

'Me too.'

'Forgive me, dear Astra. But Ember's death - and your suffering - has awakened me to the very real possibility that Kili may die on the battlefield. Or Thorin. Me. Even all of us. The line of Durin would be broken for good.'

'War is what war is,' said Astra, absent-mindedly rubbing the scar on her neck, 'It's indifferent to family ties.'

'I see how much it hurts you,' said Fili. They looked at each other, features blurred like oil paints in the flickering tongues of flame. 'I am in awe of your strength even without her.'

'Don't be,' she said, shaking her head. 'It's not strength; it's paralysis. There are so many pains competing for power over me that I can't let any of them have it. It is so much easier not to feel at all. At least not here, now, on the verge of war. If ever I get home alive, perhaps then I'll fall completely and utterly apart. Part of me would like to. But I physically can't.'

They sat in silence and watched the candle for a time. Then Fili's hand closed over hers.

'Why do you say, _"if"_ you ever get home alive? This is not your fight. It doesn't have to be.'

'Your life is tied up in this, so it is my fight. I've no interest in fighting against anyone, but I will fight with you, because that is what you do when you love someone - you fight their battles at their side. I love you, Fili.'

'I love you,' he whispered, hand moving against the blankets to rest on her face. Astra locked eyes with him and let words flow as they came to her:

'Fili, if we don't live through it -'

'No. Don't even think -'

'If we don't live through it,' Astra persisted, her voice creaking, 'If one of us is left without the other, without knowing at least once, for a single moment, what it is to be one with their love…'

The words singed her mouth as they left it. Isolda had spoken in very coded terms about what it meant to make love, but only to leave her eldest daughters a little wiser to the world than they would otherwise be. It was something that happened in a marriage, and - despite Isolda's fondness for the tragic tale of Beren and Luthien - as far as the prevailing opinions of Middle Earth were concerned, between two members of the same kind.

Yet here she was, wanting this moment so badly she thought her heart might burn itself to death if it didn't happen. With someone who was not a husband. With someone she had known for less than a week. With a Dwarf prince.

How could an act so wrong in the eyes of others feel like the most necessary, wonderful act in the world?

'I want to be close to you. As close as it's possible for us to be.'

'Astra…' Fili sat back a little and exhaled, turning over all the implications and their consequences. 'But, are you sure?'

'I am,' she said, sitting very straight and letting the blankets fall away. 'I want to know all of you. When I realised Ember was gone, I thought I would be dead inside for the rest of eternity. But when I think of you, look at you, touch you, the impossible happens: I feel alive. My love.'

'_My _love.' Fili took up her hand and encased it in his palms. 'Then I shall also know you.'

His hand was cool against her cheek, but his lips were warm when they kissed her. For a while all they exchanged were unbroken kisses, soft at first, before strengthening, as though they would lose consciousness if they stopped.

When Fili eventually did pause, it was for as few breaths as possible while he removed his coat, his outer shirt, then the tunic underneath, and finally the undershirt that cloaked a slim, strong, healthy upper body. Astra stared at the candlelight that winked from thin sweat coating his muscular arms, all the while hastening to take off Tauriel's donated cloak, her own shirts. Fili ran his smooth, warm palms over her nude shoulders, taking extra care with her scar.

'_Vaen…_' he whispered. Astra ran a hand over his knee and leaned in closer.

'What does that mean?'

'Beautiful. You are.'

'You're nice to look at yourself...'

'Do you still want - ?'

'Yes,' she whispered, mirroring his actions by putting her other hand on his face, 'Do you?'

'Oh, _yes_.'

That was the end of all conversation for the rest of the night. Astra and Fili wrapped their arms around each other's bare skin and never let go, their hands constantly roaming to seek new, unexplored areas of heat. Soon enough Astra was lying on the stone with Fili on top of her, their socks the last garments to be tossed aside. At some point, one of them blew out the candle.

The rest of Middle Earth might as well have been in an eternal slumber, for that night, the woman and the Dwarf felt like the only people alive, as if their physical union were drawing all energy and spirit from the rest of the world until they were glowing with it. Astra ran her fingers through Fili's intricate braids as he kissed up and down her neck, both of them rocking, like two waves crashing to form one tidal stretch. Time ceased to matter - there were only shivers.

They collapsed side by side, panting and sweaty, sometime between the middle of the night and the beginnings of dawn. Astra kept waiting for the cool stone beneath them to start hissing. Her hand found Fili's and gripped it tight. There was some pain, and a lot of tiredness, but what Astra felt flickering at the surface of her skin was pure ecstasy, like she had sipped starlight.

After a few minutes their breaths calmed, the sweat evaporated, and they started shivering again - not from pleasure, but from cold. Fili tugged their respective blankets towards them and layered them over himself, before firmly pulling Astra under the covers too.

An elegant tangle of limbs long and short, they said absolutely nothing. They didn't even look into each other's eyes. Instead, they lay there until their breathing and their heartbeats were following the same pattern.

Astra fell asleep first. Fili took a little longer because, as he stroked her heart with his thumb, he was preoccupied with creeping reminders of the world outside this secret nook. It was enough to know that he could die in the next day, or anyone close to him - even were they all to survive, if Thorin _ever _found out about this, Fili would be more or less disowned, a son of Durin no more.

But then, he reflected, stealing another glance at Astra, what was the loss of a throne if it meant the gain of a love?

It was this thought that finally sent him off to a peaceful, blank sleep with Astra, as close to each other as husband and wife.

They both woke at the same time an hour or so later, to the unmistakable pitter-patter of Hobbit feet.

**A/N:**I think this is the fourth night in a row I've stayed up until 2am to finish a chapter - please reward me for my writerly labours and leave a review!


	10. The Thief and the Spy

**Chapter Ten**

**The Thief and The Spy **

**A/N: **NerdyHypsterKady, your latest review made me feel all manner of happy fuzzies, thank you so much! Hope the rest of you are enjoying the story just as much, things are really about to kick off now…

Fili was the first to put a finger to his lips as he and Astra listened, still half-asleep and quite dazed, to the sound of feet slapping on stone. He gestured for Astra to stay down, wrapped one of their blankets around his waist, and cautiously stood up, his resilient Dwarf skin showing no sign of goosebumps.

'Bilbo?'

The Hobbit's gloved hands came frighteningly close to dropping the Arkenstone, having popped it free from its sconce in the King's throne. He flinched to keep it safe in his protected grip and recovered from an almighty gasp.

'What are you doing?' Fili whispered furiously. Bilbo couldn't help but notice his state of undress, and peered around the throne to find Astra sitting up, the rest of the blankets pulled up to her shoulders. She looked neither ashamed nor defiant - simply startled.

'I feel I should ask you the same,' Bilbo whispered back. The silence between them was taut. Astra joined them in standing and stared at the Arkenstone, even more brilliant and hypnotic in the dark.

'What are you going to do with it?'

'I want to use it,' Bilbo said reluctantly, looking over his shoulder in case any phantom listeners were about, 'As a peace offering. Thorin is leading us all into _war _in a matter of hours. I did not sign my name to the contract for this! I don't wish to deprive him of his birthright, but…do I have a choice? Do any of us?'

'You'll be seen,' whispered Fili, his tone imparting no judgement.

'It's my turn for night watch,' said Bilbo, eyes flickering left and right. 'I won't be seen.' He shifted his feet anxiously before offering up a final bargain: 'If you say nothing…then neither shall I.'

Fili felt Astra's hand interlock with his, while the others held up their respective blankets. He sighed through his nose.

'Do what you must. Thorin needs all the interference of those brave enough to provide it. Just go, and be back before dawn.'

'Thank you,' said Bilbo, a relieved smile appearing on his teeth in the faint moonlight. 'Both of you.'

With that, he took off to the Front Gate, making his steps as light and quiet as he was able. Using the power of his magic ring, and some sturdy rope, Bilbo slowly abseiled down the Front Gate and hopped onto the fallen statue head. He only had so many hours of night left before his absence would become apparent - he wasted no time in starting on the road to Dale.

'I now cannot decide which you should fear more,' said Astra, as she and Fili quietly got dressed, 'An army of Elves, or Thorin's wrath.'

'Well, I have already done something to incur his wrath tonight,' murmured Fili, wrapping an arm around her waist. 'Why stop now?'

Twice Alfrid had stumbled upon Cauna at her eavesdropping station atop the ledge; twice she had put him under a mild spell of forgetfulness and sent him back just the way he'd come. She was tempted to just kill him and have done with it, but that could easily attract unwanted attention and, besides, she wanted to conserve her magic. Just sitting on the ledge for hours in the freezing night was draining her energy, and if she wanted to snatch the Arkenstone and Ring efficiently, she'd need all the power she could afford.

Her vision of the Hobbit sneaking away from the Lonely Mountain, both of the aforementioned objects in tow, had been succeeded not long after by a second, more intense vision: Cauna had seen herself (or rather, herself in Ember's body) radiating white light, aglow with power from head to toe. This vision was unlike any other she had witnessed, and it made her skin prickle with anticipation. She rocked back and forth, eyes on the alert, craving the Arkenstone and the Ring so badly they might as well have been missing limbs.

When she finally glimpsed a head much shorter than any others in the square below, it took everything in her not to leap from the ledge, rip out the Hobbit's heart, and take the precious items from his gloved hands. She took a deep breath and rubbed her fingers together for warmth, mentally rehearsing her strategy one last time.

Negotiations were ongoing, but showed no signs of escaping their dead ends. Gandalf and Bard stood half-in, half-out of the tent, while Thranduil reclined on a high-backed chair, almost indifferent to the proceedings now that he considered his part played.

'You, bowman, do you agree with this?' Gandalf tried yet again. 'Is gold so important to you? For the blood of Dwarves?'

'It will not come to that,' said Bard, fighting a yawn, 'It is a fight they cannot win.'

'That won't stop them.'

The air changed instantly at the presence of a new voice. All three leaders turned to look outside the tent, where Bilbo stood quite out of breath, hair disheveled, and eyes determined above dark rings of tiredness. 'You think the Dwarves will surrender - they won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own.'

'Bilbo Baggins,' said Gandalf, unable to keep a smile from his face. He gestured for Bilbo to come inside the tent, patting his head in a fleeting embrace. 'How glad I am to see you alive and in once piece.'

'Just about,' said Bilbo, wiping sweat from his brow on a sliver of bare wrist between sleeve and glove. 'I ran all the way here.'

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Thranduil mere feet away. The Elf-lord regarded him with an ambiguous expression.

'If I am not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeon, under the nose of my guards. Clearly your talent for stealth has carried over to the Mountain.'

Bard's mouth spasmed in a stifled laugh. Bilbo stood in the middle of the tent with arms at his sides, unsure of where to look.

'…Y-e-s,' he said through the smallest opening between his lips, 'Sorry about that.' Eager to get to the point, he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and removed what, to the others, looked like nothing more interesting than a large ball of cloth. 'I came to give you this.'

Bilbo deposited it on the map table in the middle of the tent and, with delicacy, unwrapped the many layers of fabric until the glittering Arkenstone was finally revealed beneath. Gandalf dropped the entrance curtains to the tent; Bard let his arms fall to his sides; Thranduil rose from his chair as if bewitched.

'The heart of the Mountain,' he breathed, utterly transfixed. 'The King's jewel.'

'Wait, don't touch it!' Bilbo warned, but too late - Thranduil recoiled with a singed fingertip and looked personally affronted. Gandalf tilted his head and frowned at the Arkenstone.

'How curious. I recall nothing of burns in the tales from Erebor.'

'That's what the Dwarves said when they found it,' said Bilbo, 'And yet here we are. I can't touch it, neither can Astra. It doesn't seem to favour anyone.'

'How is this yours to give?' said Bard, stepping closer.

'I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure,' said Bilbo, feeling his skin crawl at the thought of Thorin's face come dawn.

'Why would you do this?' said Bard, making no attempt to hide his bafflement. 'You owe us no loyalty.'

'Oh, I'm not doing it for you,' said Bilbo, causing further surprise, 'I know that Dwarves can be obstinant, pig-headed and difficult, suspicious and secretive - with the worst possible manners you can imagine - but they are also brave, and kind, and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I will save them if I can. Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you're owed. There will be no need for war. Goodness knows we've had enough horror as it is…'

'What exactly has happened, dear fellow?' asked Gandalf, an ominous tone in his voice. 'The twins - are they safe?'

Bilbo noticed Bard's face fall and sighed heavily.

'Does the name "Cauna" sound at all familiar to you?'

Gandalf gripped his staff with both hands, a shadow tinging his face. 'Our paths have never crossed, but I was present in the aftermath of one ghastly night. The witch Cauna destroyed that family irreparably.'

Bilbo went on to explain, as succinctly as he could, everything that had happened, from Ember's death to Astra's loss of magic. Gandalf listened with grave attention until Bilbo finished speaking.

'What darkness this quest has unleashed,' the wizard said, more to himself than anyone else. '…It is a good thing indeed, Bilbo, that you have taken action to end this war before it begins. I wish to see no more - no more blood shed here. Come,' he said, gesturing to the tent doors, 'I think it is time you had a well-earned rest. I'm sure we can muster some hot food and a bed for you.'

Bilbo gave a weak smile and parted the curtains to leave the tent. Gandalf made to follow, but Thranduil held him back with the lightest touch on the arm.

'There is no guarantee that Thorin Oakenshield's hand will be forced by this admittedly bold move. Whether you desire it or not, Dwarf blood may well be spilled regardless of peacemaking efforts.'

'As may be said of all discussions tonight,' said Gandalf wearily, 'Your opinion is noted.'

'Uh, Gandalf?' came Bilbo's voice from outside the tent. Gandalf pinched the bridge of his nose with fatigue.

'Yes, Bilbo?'

'Could you - uh - come out here, please? Now?'

The quavers of terror in his voice alerted Gandalf to the fact that something was very wrong. He parted the tent curtains. On the other side, surrounded by unconscious Elf Guards, Bilbo struggled to breathe with Cauna's arm locked against his neck. Bard and Thranduil stepped outside and matched Gandalf's stare of horror.

'Forgive me this intrusion,' the witch said dryly, 'But my patience wears thin.'

'How…' Bard gawked. 'How did you - why -'

'Why did I release you from your cell?' Cauna supplied. With a concentrated blink she assumed a much more Ember-like appearance: cheerful red hair and nut-brown eyes. Even her voice became lighter. 'Because someone had to take out that nuisance of a dragon. I had no interest in competition for the Arkenstone, among other things…' She extended her free hand and reverted back to her darker tones. 'Give it to me, unless you would especially like to see Master Baggins's blood droplets decorate these slabs of stone.'

'Why are you doing this?' said Bard. 'The Arkenstone is a Dwarf gem, why go to such trouble to take it for yourself?'

'By all means, waste my time with questions of motive,' said Cauna, 'Each one will earn the Hobbit another inch of neck.'

Bilbo hissed as, with a flick of barely one finger, Cauna drew blood at his collar. Gandalf made wild gestures to Bard with one hand, the other on his staff.

'For goodness' sake, do as she says! This witch has no qualms with murder.'

'I am so heartened my reputation proceeds me,' Cauna grinned. As Bard hastily disappeared into the tent, she looked down at Bilbo and, by whispering in his ear, increased his fright tenfold: 'I know you carry the Ring. Hand it over if you wish to keep your -'

But Cauna never got the chance to say 'head,' as she flew backwards from a shot of light to the chest. More than a few Lake-towners awoke and gathered to watch what was happening as her body smacked into a column and dropped to the ground.

Bard exited the tent as quickly as he'd gone in, the Arkenstone hastily re-wrapped in its layers of cloth. Gandalf stood in front of Bilbo as he scurried to safety.

'Are you all right, my friend?'

'Been better,' said Bilbo, dabbing at his neck with two fingers, 'But fine.'

They watched warily as Cauna pushed herself up with relative ease, stumbling only once after an impact that would have killed any ordinary person. Her manic grin returned, while the darks of her eyes grew darker still.

'Wise. But unimaginative.'

She threw both hands up and muttered some incantation - Gandalf's staff went flying across the square before he had the chance to tighten his hold. As soon as that happened, Cauna sent him crashing backwards into the tent. The sound of breaking table legs and fluttering papers rose from within. Bilbo immediately raced to retrieve Gandalf's staff.

Bard took several steps backwards as the witch fixed her vicious gaze on the Arkenstone in his hands. With running momentum she leapt forward with arms outstretched, as if about to fly, but was promptly thrown off course by another hit from Gandalf. She spun through the air and skidded on her elbows, growling with frustration. By this point, two Elf Guards had managed to break Cauna's spell of sleep and charged at her with swords unsheathed. However, before anyone could say, 'look out!', the witch snapped their necks simultaneously with a quickfire movement of her hands. She met Thranduil's eyes and took malicious pleasure in his seething.

From that point on, anyone who was neither wizard nor witch knew better than to interfere in their skirmish. For some tense minutes the two of them sent forces - visible and invisible - at each other with increasing violence. Gandalf was the more powerful of the two as an Istar, but the trials he had faced at Dol Guldur had sapped much of his strength.

Not that Cauna was unaffected by fatigue of her own - battling such a powerful wizard was a challenge in itself; combined with the magic used to sedate the Elves and the hours spent in the cold, she was bleeding from her nose with effort to stay focused. When it became clear that the two enemies were dodging each other's retaliations too well, they began simply to circle. Cauna smiled even as blood seeped into her teeth.

'Well, I expected more from a duel with the oh-so famous Gandalf the Grey.' She put her concentration into walking straight. 'You do not have it in you to kill me, old man.'

'And why is that?' Gandalf replied from the other side of the square.

'Because your heart is soft. My face is her face. You see part of Ember in me and cannot _bear_ to destroy it.'

'For you to possess her,' said Gandalf, coming to a halt by the tent from where he began, 'She must surely be dead.'

'And yet you hesitate,' Cauna retorted, mirroring him. 'That is the difference between you and me, old fool. You take no risks. Not when it comes to the so-called "innocent".'

She waited for him to begin defending his reputation, but Gandalf said nothing. Instead, he leveled his gaze with her and gripped his staff until his knuckles turned white. Suddenly Cauna lost face as she found herself unable to move her arms - they were pinned to her sides as if in a giant vice.

'What are you doing? What - no,' she whispered as Gandalf held his staff horizontally above his head, one hand at each end. For the first and only time, Bilbo saw the witch look scared. 'NO!' she screamed, knees buckling and eyes screwing shut. 'NO, YOU CANNOT!'

'I can, I will, and I must,' Gandalf said grimly, 'For Ember's sake.'

The Lake-towners, Bard, Thranduil and Bilbo then witnessed something both extraordinary and disturbing: Gandalf was physically drawing out Cauna's spirit, separating ghost from body. Bilbo wanted deeply to look away but, with a kind of morbid fascination, found himself unable to. At last he saw Cauna's true appearance, the woman who had terrorized Ember and Astra for so long. Her face was thin, bordering on skeletal, and her hair was wild and black, exactly as her eyes were. Her ghoulish arms grappled at air as she was pulled away from Ember's body and towards Gandalf.

'I will - not - surrender!' Cauna screeched, but there was no returning from this spell. With a last cry that rang hollow into the night, her immaterial form hit the staff and was severed. Like smoke through an open window, Cauna was suddenly, and completely, gone.

Bilbo panted with shock in the ensuing silence. Gandalf lowered his staff. They all continued to stare at the middle of the square, for now, the only person standing there was Ember, without mask or possession.

It was recognizably and horribly her, as her skin was the colour of ash, interrupted by severe red burns in a hundred places. She swayed on her feet, mouth open long enough for a single gasp to escape before she collapsed onto the stone.

Though painfully exhausted, Gandalf was the first to rush to her side. Bilbo followed quickly; Bard and Thranduil stepped hesitantly forward, whilst the Lake-towners lingered at the edges. Most walked away in shock and awe at what they'd seen.

'Ember! Ember, look up, can you - oh no,' whispered Gandalf, as he turned her onto her back. Up close, Bilbo realised that she was left in the exact position as when the molten gold drowned her: beneath grey and bloody skin, her veins were chalked with yellow, to the point of suffocation. Gandalf tried lifting her head as she struggled to breathe, but it was no use - the most she could do was choke out what sounded like, 'I…' followed by a splutter of golden dust from her saturated lungs. Bilbo fell to his knees and saw the world blur at the edges of his eyes as Ember's eyelids fell shut, her muscles still.

'No, Gandalf…you must do something! Anything. Is there no spell, no enchantment that can bring her back?'

The old wizard looked up with tears brewing in his eyes and gave a helpless shrug.

'I cannot do that, dear Bilbo. Not without stirring up immense evil in consequence…She is gone.' He brought her head to his chest and cradled her body as if she'd fallen asleep. A tear fell from his face and ran down her singed hair. 'I have failed her. Her sister. And Isolda. I have failed.'

Bilbo's bottom lip quivered uncontrollably as he tasted salt. He reached out a hand, took up Ember's limp one, and kissed it farewell, as much as he hated to do it.

Bard sniffed audibly and looked skywards, feeling his throat tighten. 'We should bring her inside,' he said, gesturing to the tent, 'Before too many people grow anxious about what they've seen.'

Gandalf nodded, eventually allowing Bard to take Ember's body under the back and knees and carry her away from the scene.

'Gandalf,' said Bilbo, a hand stretching to reach the wizard's shoulder, 'Do not blame yourself. You just saved us all.'

'It is my fault they are on this quest. Without us, they would be safe at home, protected.'

'You could not have possibly predicted any of this,' said Bilbo, adding, 'Even as a wizard.'

'One point still eludes my understanding,' Thranduil said from his chair, deep in somber thought, 'What use would a lone witch have for the Arkenstone?'

'In truth, I do not know,' said Gandalf, head in hands. 'With the changing behaviour of this gem, it may well possess powers we are not aware of. But without access to a library, I can confirm nothing.'

Ember's body had been placed on the rugs in the middle of the tent, where the broken table had been. Her arms were folded over her chest and, despite the angry burn patches on her skin, she looked peaceful. Bilbo stared at her with crossed arms.

'I can't believe Thorin allowed this to happen.'

'All the more reason to force a truce out of him using the Arkenstone,' said Bard.

'I agree,' said Gandalf. 'I refuse to let that Dwarf spill any more innocent blood in the name of his pride. Bilbo, your actions may prevent further fatalities yet.'

**A/N: **FYI, I spent a lot of this chapter listening to the Eurovision soundtrack and it was very weird and now I have more emotions than I know what to do with. All I'll say is follow me, follow this story, leave a review, and go watch the Eurovision highlights if you didn't see it live!


	11. Struck Down

**Chapter Eleven **

**Struck Down **

**A/N:** The usual and most gracious thank you to **NerdyHypsterKady**, and apologies for the long delay in getting this chapter written and ready. Next one should be along more promptly! In the meantime, please review and follow J

Golden gleams stretched over thousands of Elf-made suits of armour, offset by dark, weathered weapons the townspeople had pulled from the Dale stores and heavily dusted off.

Bilbo craned on the balls of his feet to watch these armies gather at the Front Gate, as though they were brute facts of nature that had been there before anything else, silent and stern. The sea of gold and bronze was parted only to make way for Thranduil, regally astride a white elk, and Bard, who was considerably less used to sitting on a horse above all others as a leader.

Fili and Kili being the exceptions, no Dwarf was the wiser to Bilbo's nighttime excursion. Against Gandalf's will, but on Thranduil's counsel, he had snuck back just as the first tinges of dawnish blue crept into the sky from the Northeast.

Outfitted in the helmet, breastplate, gauntlets, pauldrons and cuisses of his fighting Erebor days, Thorin looked ready to take on a hundred Smaugs rather than the Elf-king and town leader who approached them. With silent ferocity he notched an arrow and fired it just short of the steeds' hooves, bringing them to a pointed halt.

'I will put the next one between your eyes,' Thorin called down. In spite of the tension within the company, most of the Dwarves couldn't help but unleash battle cries like those their kin would have made before fighting the Orcs for Erebor. However, their volume - and heads - quickly dropped when the wall of Elf soldiers readied polished arrows of their own. Only Thorin was stalwart enough to remain standing in the face of this threat.

Thankfully, before the Dwarf King turned into a pincushion, Thranduil ordered his armies at ease with a single, slow gesture of the hand. Thousands of arrows were returned in perfect synchronicity, the sound like a glassy wave crashing against rocks.

'We have come to tell you,' Thranduil called up, wasting no time with preliminaries, 'Payment of your debt has been offered…'

Without even needing to move his head, Bilbo could feel side-glances from Astra, Kili and Fili bearing down on him, as well as an instant change in the air as Thorin frowned. Thranduil tilted his head with a smug twinkle in his eyes.

'…And accepted.'

'What payment?' barked Thorin, hands gripping the edge of the balcony. 'I gave you nothing…You have nothing.'

Bard and Thranduil exchanged an ambiguous look before Bard reached a gloved hand into the breast pocket of his coat. Thorin and company peered over the edge; Bilbo leaned back.

'We have this,' Bard said to a resounding gasp, as he held the Arkenstone high up in the sunlight, its brightness blinding.

'They have the Arkenstone,' Gloin exclaimed in horror. '_Thieves!_ How came you by Thror's heirloom? That - that stone belongs to the King!'

'The King may have it, on our good will,' said Bard, his reasonable overtones belying something harsher beneath, 'But first, he must honour his word.'

'I…I don't understand…' Thorin had gone white, his hands moving here and there on the balcony as if suddenly weightless. 'How could…_You._' He pointed an accusatory finger, not at Bilbo, but at Astra. 'You did this. This is your idea of revenge, I can see it in your eyes!'

He veered towards her aggressively, a storm in the making, before Fili came between them.

'Thorin, no! Astra did not take the Arkenstone.'

'Does she deny it?' Thorin hissed.

'"She" denies it wholeheartedly,' Astra retorted with strength in her voice that hadn't been heard for days. 'I took nothing.'

'I know she did not,' said Fili, wary of keeping Bilbo out of the discussion.

'Is that right?' snapped Thorin. 'How would you know?'

'Because I was with her.'

'For _all _of last night?' Thorin countered. Fili deliberately raised his head and voice before answering, plainly:

'Yes.' He interlaced his fingers with Astra's, in full view of the whole company. 'All. Night.'

Kili's heart went cold, a curious mixture of shock and envy tinting it from the inside. There was a deafening silence across the balcony - the younger Dwarves looked less judgmental than the elder Dwarves; the elder Dwarves looked less surprised. Thorin, by contrast, went white as a poker held under fire. He didn't seem to know which revelation to expend more anger on, until Bilbo bravely punctured the silence from behind:

'It - it wasn't Astra.' Thorin and company's attention was instantly diverted. 'I gave it to them.'

'…You?'

'I took it as my fourteenth share.'

'You would steal from me,' said Thorin, his voice ominously void of any variation in tone.

'Steal from you? No, no I may be a burglar but I like to think I'm an honest one,' said Bilbo, feebly trying to make the situation seem much less worse than it was. 'I am willing to let it stand against my claim.'

'Your claim,' Thorin said, still in monotone, before finally setting his words ablaze, 'You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!'

'You need to understand my reasons,' Bilbo said quickly, backing away with hands raised, first in defense, and then in accusation. 'You are changed, Thorin. The Dwarf I met in Bag End would have never gone back on his word, would never…would never have made choices that were not his to make.'

'Do not speak to me of choices that were not mine to make,' Thorin snarled. 'Throw him from the ramparts!'

This frighteningly loud order lost some of its fire when no one dared to move. Fili tried to surreptitiously move closer to Astra, but Thorin grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away with a painful jolt.

'_Did you not hear me?_!' Despite flecks of spit hitting Fili in the face, he took strength and courage from the eyes of his brother, just past Thorin's shoulder, and made it clear through his posture that his days of unconditional obedience were long gone.

'Then I will do it myself!' said Thorin, relinquishing his nephew and turning to the Hobbit. Before anyone could stop him, Thorin had Bilbo halfway over the ledge. 'Curse you! Cursed be the wizard who brought you on this company!'

Everyone surged to stop Bilbo from falling to his death, when a long-absent voice boomed from below amongst the armies.

'DO NOT HARM MY BURGLAR! RETURN HIM TO ME.'

'Gandalf!' exclaimed Kili. Bilbo caught sight of the Grey Wizard from upside down with dizzying relief. Thorin jumped back from the ledge, letting Bofur and Fili pull the Hobbit to safety.

'You are not making a very splendid figure are you, King Under the Mountain, son of Thrain?' Gandalf called, in the manner of a stern parent. Thorin gritted his teeth.

'Never again will I have dealings with Wizards,' he declared, to anyone and everyone, 'Or Shire-rats!'

While Thorin was distracted, Bofur hastily gathered some rope - the very rope Bilbo had used to abseil down the Gate the previous night - and gave it to the Hobbit with an urgent, 'Go!'

Bilbo wasted no time at all in hurrying down the Gate, burning his palms on the rope as he went and soaking his feet in the water of the moat in his dash to safety - namely, to Gandalf. Thorin glared down at them, still furious with betrayal, but more restrained, as if Bilbo were a rotten tooth excised. Bard looked warily between the Front Gate and over his shoulder.

'Before this escalates any further,' he called, taking advantage of this more settled atmosphere, 'There is something that we feel should rightfully be returned to you - specifically, to the lady, Astra.'

His disconcerting tone of voice brought Astra right to the edge of the ramparts, one hand still intertwined with Fili's like her anchor. As soon as Bard said her name, she understood. So did Kili - he stood by her side and felt his expression ice over as Bard and Thranduil directed their steeds aside, to make room for two Elves carrying a stretcher. They set it carefully down beside the broken moat crossing, before one of them pulled back its grey blanket.

Ori sucked air through his teeth in a stifled sob; for some moments that was the only sound from the Front Gate. Astra did not blink for a very long time, hence the tears, one from each eye, which eventually stuttered down her face. It was like looking into the future at her own death: bloodless face, white hands crossed rigidly over one another like stone, closed eyes, and red hair without its youthful sheen.

She looked at her death while cursed to stay alive. She was a ghost in her own body. Ember was gone.

'Thanks to your actions, Thorin Oakenshield, an evil witch was brought back from the dead,' said Gandalf, eyes hard. 'In the early hours of the morning, I sent her back there. But at the cost of this good, innocent witch's life. This is where war leads - whether victorious or defeated, once it begins, death will follow. And not of the noble kind.'

Thorin, intended or not, held an impassive expression. Rather than convey any emotion himself, he drank down the reactions of others like a sour medicine: Astra's contained fractures, Balin's white head in his hands…the fact that Bofur removed his hat as a sign of mourning. But the most bitter to take in was Kili, who stepped back from the ledge with a knuckle between his teeth. His face reddened with oncoming tears straight away, which he concealed by staggering halfway down the stairs, out of sight to all except the gloom of Erebor. Fili looked torn between embracing Astra as her tears vanished in the dry cold, and holding his brother tight to keep his rocking sobs at bay.


	12. The First Strike

**Chapter Twelve **

**The First Strike **

******A/N:** So after that rather emotional chapter, it's time for a slice of action - buckle up! Also, though it comes as no surprise, NerdyHypsterKady has left another wonderful review - take note, all you mystery readers out there! ;)

'Are we resolved?' said Bard, his voice dull as a blade on the rock of silence. 'Return of the Arkenstone for what was promised? Give us your answer.'

Thorin didn't seem to have heard him. He kept looking distractedly towards the westernmost hill, over which ghostly rays of winter sun turned. Bard tried to keep the fatalism from his voice as he tried, one last time, to engage: 'Will you have peace, or war?'

The Dwarf King's gaze held, until the secret signal he'd been awaiting finally came swooping over the crest of the hill: a large, coal-black raven. It landed on the ramparts and cocked its head towards him with a salutary chirrup. At last, Thorin turned to answer Bard:

'I will have war.'

As if having heard these words from afar, approximately five hundred steel-toed pairs of feet marched in a rousing chorus of thuds over the hill, weapons denting the earth as they went. Bilbo, Gandalf, and the two armies craned their necks to witness this astonishing arrival. Gandalf honed in on the leader of this metal pack - a single Dwarf astride an army-grade boar.

'Ironfoot,' he muttered. Thranduil wasted no time in galloping down the middle aisle of his Elf army. On his hurried commands they turned and quick-marched west in terrifying synchronicity.

The Dwarves of Erebor swept themselves up in cheer and battle cries at this long-overdue sign of alliance. Fili raised a sword in solidarity, but that was the extent of his enthusiasm. Kili only sighed, his red eyes still focused on Ember's body, left by the bridge and suddenly forgotten. Eventually, however, he joined the others in watching Dain Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills, come to a pronounced halt on a sturdy rock shelf.

'Good morning,' he announced in a booming - if suspiciously lighthearted - voice. 'How are we all? I see we're in a bit of a crowd, but I have a wee proposition, if ye wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would ye - _consider_ \- JUST SHOVING OFF? All of you, RIGHT NOW!'

'Stand fast,' shouted Bard.

'Come now, Lord Dain…' called Gandalf, making his way to the frontline. He didn't know exactly where that sentence was going - next to Dain, Thorin was practically a domesticated peacekeeper, and frankly he knew that attempts to negotiate would come to nothing.

'Gandalf the Grey,' Dain said in absence of anything further, 'Tell this rabble to leave, or I'll water the ground with their blood.'

'There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves. A legion of Orcs march upon the Mountain, and innocent lives have already been lost needlessly. _Stand down_.'

'I will not stand down before any Elf,' Dain barked, nodding with scorn in Thranduil's direction, 'Not least this faithless woodland _sprite_. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. He chooses to stand between me and my kin. I'll split his pretty little head open - see if he's still smirking then!'

The Dwarves roared their cheers again. Thranduil rolled his eyes with a tangibly unimpressed air.

'He's clearly mad, like his cousin.'

'Ye hear that, lads?' yelled Dain, both to his soldiers and their Erebor kin. Kili narrowed his eyes, wondering if he'd be so keen to start the fight if he knew what Thorin had done. 'Come on! Let's give these bastards a good hammering.'

Battle cries rang out on both sides, along with a shrill clang of innumerable weapons. But then another sound broke through: a rumbling, ominous as a storm, from the northern hills. The Dwarves fell quiet and redirected their attention. The air thickened like soup around everyone, making it hard to breathe. The louder the rumbling, the stronger their collective fear of a nasty surprise. They were not wrong.

Dirt and rock exploded out of the hills, at first as if by magic. But unholy snarls and the sight of jagged teeth the size of windows revealed something more horrifying.

'Were-worms,' Gandalf grimaced, tightening the grip on his staff. The repulsive creatures were being used to tunnel through masses of land on behalf of the most nightmarish assembly of monsters: huge armies of Orcs, backed up by galumphing, destructive giants, and swarms of goblins.

'Oh, come _on_…' exclaimed Dain, before rising to this unexpected and daunting obstacle. 'To battle! TO BATTLE, SONS OF DURIN!'

The Dwarves could barely be heard over the thundering enemy. Bard suddenly realised that he, too, was in charge of an army - the army of Lake-town. He also realised that he was still holding the Arkenstone. It would weigh on his mind (and his jacket) if he kept it in there. He needed to put it somewhere safe, somewhere it wouldn't be found easily, but also somewhere it was unlikely to be lost forever.

Turning on his horse, when the idea first came to Bard, he could hardly believe it. For a split second he felt ashamed and foolish, but urgency and fear drowned that out quickly enough. He slid off the steed, knelt over Ember's covered body, and tugged the blanket down far enough to expose her hands, still and bloodless as alabaster. With gloved fingers, Bard pried up the fingers of her left hand, and carefully pressed them down again, over the Arkenstone. At least in death the gem could not burn her. More to the point, no one would waste time raiding a corpse for valuables in the middle of battle.

The only witness to this act of quick thinking was Kili, staring over the ramparts with both hands glued to the edge. Not that he drew attention to the Arkenstone having been left directly under their noses - he didn't wish to give Thorin the satisfaction of getting the gem back undeservedly.

'I'm going over the wall,' Nori said with pluck as he pumped his bow and arrow overhead. 'Who's coming with me?'

Kili finally looked away from Ember, hands instinctively going to his own bow. Panic and thrill swirled deep within him like a cyclone. Was he ready for a real battle, his and Fili's first? Did it matter? The air prickled with energy as the Dwarves of Erebor shouted their assent. Even Astra closed a hand around her sword, her Mithril vest glittering.

'Stand down,' said Thorin, swift and harsh as a crashing ship. The Dwarves stared, flabbergasted.

'But - but you said -' Ori stammered.

'Are we to do nothing?!' cried Fili.

'I said STAND DOWN.'

He did not move except to turn back downstairs, retreating trance-like into safety, but he might as well have slapped each of them around the face.

'He thirsts for war and then deserts it?' exclaimed Dwalin, spitting on the rocks. 'What is this day becoming? Who is our leader anymore?'

'I certainly do not recognise him,' said Balin, distracted by the impending siege. 'But lads, unless any of you are planning to go it alone, I suggest we at least follow suit in so far as taking cover!'

The company grimaced, Astra, Fili and Kili more than anyone, but heeded Balin's advice: they swept themselves back down the makeshift stairs until the sounds of a battle begun were muffled by stone.

With one group of Dwarves concealed behind the Front Gate, another assembling a spiked shield formation on the frontline, Gandalf pleading with Thranduil to aid them, and Bard trying to shut out all fears for his children as he roused the men of Lake-town, a mysterious event entirely escaped everyone's notice.

Ember's body was left alone, still on the stretcher, beside the moat of melted snow and old rainwater. Ripples pulsed on the water's surface as a million feet stomped across the battlefield. The birds of Erebor, having only just returned to their home, fled for safer heights. And in the midst of this, through the slim gaps in Ember's rearranged fingers, there was a glow, and a thin trail of pure, white smoke. If there had been any witnesses, they would think the Arkenstone was welding itself to her skin.

Just as the Elves of Mirkwood leapt into battle alongside the Dwarves, the veins in Ember's left wrist turned from cauterized gold to fiery blue-white.

**A/N: **Yay me getting this chapter up against all the odds! Please review and/or follow (preferably both, hehe). Until next time!


	13. One Last Time

**Chapter Thirteen**

**One Last Time**

**A/N:****TriggerHarpy** and **NerdyHypsterKady, **thank you for your kind words of encouragement, always helps! And thank you to every new story follower, I'm glad I'm reaching you J I have a feeling this chapter is going to be an epic one, so hold onto your wizard hats!

From a star-eyed view, tiny dust clouds appeared on the Lonely Mountain, accompanied by a barely audible rumbling. On the ground, an unrelenting, unstoppable crash of sound starved the air of all else. Azog's Orc armies launched boulders the size of ships at Dale's walls, from the backs of enslaved, deformed giants. It did not take long for them to break through and storm the city, putting the townspeople in danger as well as the armies. Dain, Gandalf, Bard and Thranduil had more to fight than any of them had been prepared for.

And while this calamity unfolded, deep within the halls of Erebor, there was deep, oceanic hush, broken only by slow footsteps clinking in still-dusty armour. Thorin had retreated to his grandfather's throne, where he'd sat for the better part of an hour before two visitors finally braved infringing on his brooding, mysterious, and disturbing silence. Astra lingered at the end of the walkway, feeling constricted and heavy in her mithril vest. She watched Dwalin cross over to Thorin. When his deliberate footsteps provoked no reaction, he spoke bluntly instead:

'Since when do we forsake our own people?' Still Thorin sat with a glazed stare. Dwalin stepped up to the throne, his voice strained with plea: 'Thorin, they are dying out there.'

'There are halls beneath halls beneath this Mountain,' Thorin whispered, so low that Astra had to cross the bridge to hear better, 'Places we can fortify. We must store up, make safe, yes…yes.' Thorin stood as quickly as water escaping from an upset glass. 'That is it. We must move the gold further underground.'

He made to move away from the throne room, but Dwalin refused to let him slip away.

'Did you not hear me? Dain is surrounded. Our kin are being slaughtered, Thorin.'

Even as one of the most stoic members of the company, Dwalin could not keep the pain from his face when Thorin's looked so apathetic to his words.

'Many die in war,' said Thorin, condescendingly impatient. 'Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this…cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend.'

'Would you care to tell that to my sister's body,' said Astra, reaching Dwalin's side with crossed arms, her voice dry but pointed, 'Which I can't even reach because you gave orders to obstruct the entrance?'

'You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head,' sighed Dwalin, 'And yet you are lesser now than you have ever been.'

'Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly Dwarf-lord, as if I were - still - Thorin Oakenshield,' he muttered, his own name apparently bringing on a sour taste.

'You _are _Thorin Oakenshield,' said Dwalin, worn out, 'Our leader. My leader. You used to know that once. You cannot see what you have become.'

'What I have become?' Thorin echoed, his words so aggressive they stirred up spit. 'I AM YOUR KING.'

At that moment, something in Astra either broke, or was revived. Either way, she uncrossed her arms, hands screwed into fists, and commanded Thorin's attention with ice-coated words:

'The only mortal witches left in Middle Earth are my mother and younger sister. Just two, now that Ember is dead.' Her arms shook with her voice, which spiraled in volume like a fire when first lit. 'How _dare you_ insult her memory by allowing your kin's blood to spill over these lands! You've watched it happen before, all those years ago, been haunted by that terror of watching your family drop one by one, violently and pointlessly, and _you stand by to let it happen all over again_. You were never my King, and you are certainly no King to anyone now. You're an executioner, whose axe is made of gold.'

She fell into silence as a pause, to regain her breath and take stock; Dwalin remained in silence from astonishment at this outburst; Thorin was straining not to lose his temper, eyes averted from them both, his spell of apathy over.

'Go,' he said at last. 'Get out. Before I kill you. Both of you.'

'Oh don't waste any more time with empty words,' Astra snapped. Her tone was still stripped of emotion, but her voice moved with a pace gathering all the fury in the world. She thrust her arms out to the sides. 'Why not follow through and do it? Then I will be reunited with Ember. I won't have to tell my mother that as well as her husband, she has now lost a daughter.' Thorin finally deigned to look her in the eye, and for the first time in days, felt a twinge of shame breach his heart's stronghold. '_Never_ threaten to kill someone with so little left to lose.'

Thorin had nothing to respond with - his quiver of barbed words was suddenly and entirely spent. He took one step backwards, then another, and another, until he was halfway down a flight of stairs.

Whether because of Astra, or Dwalin, or the accumulation of everything that had passed on this quest, something tipped Thorin into a spiral of shame, hot and viscous like the contents of the furnaces before he had let them spill through the Gallery of the Kings. He staggered across the vast, empty hall, everything beneath his feet smooth, unfeeling gold, interrupted only by the deformed shape of Ember's body where Cauna had broken free. Though he tried, he could not walk in a straight line, and every time he made to leave the Gallery, he found himself going round in the same circles, all directions blurring into one, like the voices overlapping in his head. He heard his own voice as if it were someone else's, tainted and made strange. He heard the reprimand in others, the desperation, and the fear. He willed them to stop, but they only grew louder:

A treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost - I will not…part…with a single…coin… - he cannot see beyond his own desire! - a sickness which drove your grandfather mad - this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror! - I am not my grandfather - you are the heir to the throne of Durin - I am not my grandfather - take back the mountain - Dain is surrounded - take back your homeland - you are _changed_, Thorin! - I am not my grandfather - is this treasure truly worth more than your honour? - Thorin…

He looked down at his feet, unaware that he had been staring into space, blinking away flickers and shadows that were not there. He felt watched, but he was alone. He searched the darker corners for the people to whom these voices belonged, but saw no one. What he did see - coming towards him so fast he leapt away in fright - was Smaug's silhouette, snaking beneath him in the sea of gold, stalking prey, biding his time…But he was dead…nothing made sense anymore.

Thorin did not think it possible to become more disoriented, but without warning he felt unsteady, swaying as the gold floor shifted under his feet and curved around him. It surged upwards in walls to make a prison - he was sinking, melting. He groaned and cried out for rescue, to no avail. And louder still the voices grew, attacking him like demons:

This treasure will be your death - you're an executioner, whose axe is made of gold - a truly ruthless execution, I grant you that much - would never have made choices that were not his to make - She died for nothing, Thorin, _NOTHING_! - Ember died the moment she stepped into this forsaken kingdom - Thorin…_help_

Thorin yelled in terror as a raw red hand extended down to him. It was Ember, the pain of betrayal in her eyes.

'Do you know what I am capable of_?_ I am a _witch_.' Her voice, hair and eyes darkened, until Ember became Cauna, merciless and malicious. 'However much you hurt me, I can send double the retribution…I will make you _burn._'

Thorin squeezed his eyes shut and wished with every fibre of his being that he would never have anything to do with gold again, that it would all disappear immediately and permanently, that he could be purged for good.

When he opened his eyes again, the walls had vanished. The gold was still there, but back where it belonged: spread flat over the floor, inanimate. He was no longer unbalanced, but rooted - because his hands were in Ember's. She stood before him as an anchor, serene, free of burns, and fully herself, save for a faint glow beneath her skin. She stared into his restless eyes and uttered two words, so imbued with certainty it was like a divine message:

_Look ahead._

Then she was gone. The voices were gone. And so, Thorin forced himself to realise, was this sickness. The crown on his head felt unbearably heavy - without a second thought, he took it off and tossed it aside with a clatter against the gold floor. Everything was clear, like a pane of frosted glass had been shattered for him to see outwards. He knew what he had to do.

'Fall back!' bellowed Dain, 'Fall back to the Mountain!'

Dwarves, Elves, Men and Orcs alike lay strewn about the battlefield, some in higher numbers than others. Dain had fought more times than he had fingers to count them on, but his forces were desperately outnumbered, there was blood splattered across his face, and his strength was waning.

Thranduil and his Elves were concentrating their efforts with Gandalf and Bard on protecting Dale from any further damage. Dain had been left to protect Erebor, and right now the only option left to him was to spread his remaining soldiers across the Front Gate as a living shield. The Dwarves closest to the ramparts and obstructed moat stepped around Ember's body, still on the stretcher. No one had time - or the desire - to move it. They would not need to.

Just as Azog gave the order for his frontline of Orcs to lurch forward in a final attack formation, the Arkenstone completed its fusion. In fact, there was no longer an Arkenstone to speak of - it had thawed like a block of ice and seeped into Ember's veins. She no longer looked pale, but aglow.

Suddenly, her lips parted, spine arched, and hair turned a shocking white, all in one breath - the gasping breath of revival she drew into her body with one long convulsion. Needless to say, this startled the handful of Dwarves in the immediate area around her, but what drew even more attention was when she cast the stretcher's blanket off, rose to her feet, and opened her eyes: only the whites of her eyeballs, burning with light, stared out at the carnage ahead.

'What in the name of the Valar…' Dain whispered, this mysterious, ghostly figure catching his notice. He watched as she walked forward, bridging the gap between herself and the oncoming Orcs as if they weren't there at all. He wondered if she could see anything or if, blind, she was about to be trampled by these menacing foes.

Though Azog did not give orders to fall back or halt his armies, he too paid attention to this unexpected appearance. Neither he, nor his commanding Orcs, knew what the significance of this person was.

Ember stopped abruptly halfway between the Orcs and the Dwarves. Icy winds blew back her glowing white hair and sleeves as she held out an arm, palm firmly splayed, as if to say, _You are not permitted beyond this point._

No incantations passed her lips, no gestures, nor even changes in expression. She simply and efficiently reduced a giant goblin at the centre of the frontline to ash. She moved her arm a fraction to the left and did it again, before bringing up her other arm and repeating the action on the opposite side, as if learning as she went that it was possible to do two things at once.

Azog's army did not retreat, but they did come to a hasty halt, confused and angry and, as far as Orcs were capable, afraid. Using this pause strategically, Ember turned away from them and titled her head up at the Front Gate.

**A/N:** Told you it'd be epic…Until very, very soon, readers.


	14. The Living Silmaril

**Chapter Fourteen **

**The Living Silmaril**

**A/N:****TriggerHarpy**, thank you for your lightning-fast review! Reviews are like refreshing cups of water cheering spectators pass to marathon runners, they make all the difference ;) Onwards!

The Company sat and paced on the other side of the Front Gate while Dwalin and Astra made their last-ditch attempt at bringing Thorin to his senses. When they returned, the Dwarves straightened up and looked hopeful, but they were met with two glum shakes of the head. A quiet sigh did the rounds.

'All this will be over,' Bofur said to himself as much as them. 'At one point or another. It has to end, it has to. Whether in our favour or not.' The hard work to stay his usual optimistic self in this bleak hour was present in his voice. Bifur nodded to himself and patted his brother on the shoulder.

'_Therkâ ikhlitî_,' he muttered, with surprising calm.

'Yes, we must hold fast,' said Fili, from a slab of rubble, elbows on his thighs. After a moment of hesitation, he offered his hand to Astra, who slowly crossed to him and took it up. She sat beside him and rested her arm on the inside of his. They didn't exactly have anything to hide anymore.

'Is there any hope for him?' Fili asked her.

'None. Not a grain.'

'Even if he never shows his face again,' said Kili, voice softened by the tears he had shed in the last hour, '_We_ still can. Fili, we must.'

The brothers exchanged glances, Fili squeezing Astra's hand.

'You're right. We must.' He was about to stand up when the Dwarves turned their heads: footsteps. Thorin gradually emerged from the darkness. Kili stood up and marched forward before anyone else could.

'We will not hide behind a wall of stone,' he cried, 'While _others_ fight our battles _for us_!' Thorin slowed to a halt before him, sword in hand, but crown and cloak conspicuously absent. 'It is not in our blood, Thorin. It is not in mine.'

He waited for a retort, for a burst of anger, perhaps even for the sword to meet his neck. But none of these things came to pass. Kili searched Thorin's eyes, trying to work out what it was that suddenly felt so different about him. Thorin was calm without anything simmering beneath the surface. He looked only pensive, putting a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

'No. It is not,' he said reverently. 'We are sons of Durin. And Durin's folk do not flee from a fight. Nor,' he added, 'Drive away their kin.'

Kili didn't want to be so easily forgiving. He wanted to be furious a little longer, to direct his pain over Ember at Thorin. But his lower lip quivered and gave way to a new, short burst of tears. Thorin brought their heads together and let his nephew sob in a gesture of many things: sympathy, solidarity, but above all else, sorrow.

When Kili parted and quickly wiped his face, he held himself a little taller and allowed Thorin to stand before the rest of the Company. Fili and Astra stood at the same time, hand in hand, their expressions stoic.

'I have no right to ask this, of any of you,' Thorin said solemnly. He looked up to the bar of daylight at the top of the Front Gate, 'But will you follow me, one last time?'

None of the Dwarves looked at one another to consider this significant request. They each looked within themselves, and each stood, took up their axes, their swords and hammers, and nodded, by themselves.

'You finally rid yourself of the accursed sickness,' said Balin, somewhere between a question and a statement of fact.

'The sickness rid itself of me,' said Thorin, 'Thanks to a voice I heard over all others.' He looked to Astra. She didn't know whether to look back. 'Astra. You need not forgive me. Indeed, you should not forgive me. But I beg forgiveness nonetheless. If I could return to that night and undo my great evil, I would. Were Ember alive now, I would fall on my knees and weep before her like the pitiable wretch I know myself to be. But as we stand, know this: if we fight together, win together, and survive together, then perhaps tomorrow, we can bless your love for Fili, and his love for you, together.'

Astra was so shocked she was physically unable to speak, at least until she glanced at Fili to confirm that she had not just imagined Thorin's words. She saw a small grin pluck at the corners of his mouth, a grin of dual disbelief and relief. She turned back to Thorin and surveyed the rest of the Company.

'Damn right we will,' she said eventually. 'Now get me a sword.'

It hardly took long for the Dwarves to get back their fighting spirit. Decked out in the finest armour Erebor had to offer, with weapons sharpened on whatever rubble was lying around, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield was finally ready to break through the Front Gate and join the battle.

How they were physically supposed to do that was another matter.

'We can't dismantle the ramparts all over again by hand,' said Bofur, staring up at the structure with arms akimbo. 'The battle'll be long over by the time we're through.'

'We need something to knock it down in one fell swoop,' said Fili, looking around the hall as if it would be sitting conveniently close by.

'The gold bells of the clock tower!' Thorin exclaimed. 'When Smaug invaded Erebor he struck one of them loose, we can haul it up from the floor below with rope and -'

'Thorin…' said Ori, squinting at the Front Gate, 'What is that?'

Everyone followed his gaze to a partition in the stonework, the diamond-shaped gap from which Thorin had communicated with Bard. A brilliant light, like a piece of the moon descended, was searing its way through it, bleeding into other cracks in the ramparts.

'On your guard…' warned Thorin, sword at the ready. Astra sided with Fili. Kili whipped out an arrow. The Company formed a line. Before any of them had time to process what was happening, the entire wall blew to dust from the outside. They shielded their eyes in the face of a blinding glow.

Thorin unscrewed his eyes as soon as he could, expecting all manner of nightmarish beasts to storm Erebor. But nothing came at them - everything was still. He tried to peer past the residual light before he realised that the light was a person. A person standing between them and the battlefield, arms stretched to either side, head bowed in recovery from this tremendous act of destruction.

'…Ember.' Astra was the first one to see it. Kili's arrow fell to the floor as, upon apparently hearing her name, the radiant figure raised her head and opened her eyes. They were white as a blizzard, but not blank - she recognised them.

'By the Valar and all thereafter,' Balin breathed. She approached them, serene even while the thunder of battle raged on in full view behind.

As Kili attempted words that only came out as sputtered gasps, Thorin fell to his knees, pale as water. Ember stopped before him and tilted her head. He was more afraid now than at any point during his hallucinations - she looked ready to exact an almighty revenge on him.

Then she extended two glowing hands. Breathless, he let her take hold of his and got to his feet. Her skin was incandescent. It felt as though all the heat that should be singeing him was working furiously at her core to furnish her with this power. The smallest smile played on her face.

'Look ahead.' She released Thorin's hands and turned to Astra and Kili on either side of him. 'Fight. Live.'

With that, she turned around and flung her arms out to the battlefield. A wide beam of light poured from her fingertips and blasted away all obstacles on the moat. It travelled clean down the middle of the battlefield, disintegrating every Orc and goblin in its way. She ran back into the chaos, untouchable.

Thorin was grinning without even knowing it. He laughed, hard, and then rode that laughter into a battle cry:

'CHARGE!'

Astra yelled with the rest of them as, weapons drawn, they followed Ember's stellar example and surged ahead into the daylight. Dwarven shields parted for them, and Dain rejoiced himself hoarse. With this surge in morale, his army united behind the sons of Durin and threw themselves against the Orcs. Arrows rained, hammers flew, and dark blood exploded in cloudbursts. It took Dain and Thorin some frenzied minutes to find each other and stand back to back, batting away at the enemy.

'Cousin!' Dain shouted heartily, 'What took you so long? Is this your doing?' He sliced a goblin's throat with his sword before using it to point into the distance at Ember, who was all the way at the edge of the field, disintegrating Azog's screeching were-worms with spectacular efficiency, 'Because that is the best secret weapon I have _ever _seen!'

'Nothing to do with me,' Thorin replied in between kills. 'It is all her.'

'Incredible! Have you got any kind of plan?'

'Aye. We're going to take out their leader.'

'Azog?'

When they'd finally cleared the immediate area of Orcs, Thorin whistled for one of the Dwarf army rams to come forth.

'I'm going to kill that piece of filth. DWALIN!'

Within minutes, and with the unprompted help of Ember (who had no problem whatsoever in clearing a route), Thorin had recruited Dwalin, Kili, Fili, and Astra, to borrow rams of their own and follow him on what was now the most high-priority mission of the entire battle.

'I still don't understand!' Fili yelled to Astra over her shoulder, as she clutched the reins of their ram, 'How is she alive? How does she have this much power?!'

'Your guess is as good as mine!' Astra replied, resisting the temptation to give herself whiplash by looking back at the undead Ember as they left her in order to climb parallel to Dale. 'But if this really is her, then there aren't enough words in Middle Earth to capture what I feel!'

Ember had certainly attracted considerable attention already. When a cloud of demonic bats flew over Dale, she only attracted more by hurling balls of white lightning into the sky, causing them to explode like confetti. Once that was dealt with, like a trail of smoke, she sprinted into the centre of the ruined city. Elves lay everywhere in their own spilled blood, stuck with arrows and blades, their immortality compromised forever. In the purified, minimalist landscape of her awakened mind, Ember intended to even the score.

She found Thranduil cast off from his elk, which lay with broken limbs and a still heart on the threshold of a stone archway. He begrudgingly, but expertly, fought off the Orcs and goblins that came at him like cobras. When his sword flew from his hand and cut through nothing more than snowflakes, Ember took over and crumbled the enemy soldiers to ash. Her powers were ruthless, but bloodless. The Elf-lord could only stare open-mouthed before retreating across the square.

'She's here!' Bilbo exclaimed to Gandalf as he spotted her from afar. 'Truly, it's her, oh Gandalf…I have never been more confused.' He put a hand to his head while the old Wizard watched the glowing witch who, mere days ago, had been a mortal, sheltered, idealistic young woman who knew only a handful of spells.

'You are not the only one, dear Bilbo,' he said. 'There are many questions in need of answering, but this is hardly the most conducive environment, I must say.'

'She isn't half doing a bad job of decimating the enemy.'

'Indeed. We may yet survive this.'

'Look!' Bilbo cried again, pointing higher up, 'It's Thorin!'

'And Fili, Kili, Dwalin…and Astra!' said Gandalf, 'He's taking his best warriors.'

'To do what?'

'To cut the head off the snake,' said Gandalf, his expression grim. 'Without a leader to give orders, any army quickly loses focus, and therefore its strength. Combined with Ember's phenomenal powers, they will not stand a single chance.'

'Gandalf!'

Hobbit and Wizard turned at once to this new voice, approaching on horseback.

'Legolas!' Gandalf exclaimed, 'Legolas Greenleaf!'

'A second army is coming,' the Elf reported, wasting no time as he dismounted the horse with Tauriel, 'Bolg is leading a force of Gundabad Orcs. Their bats have already -'

'Been released?' Gandalf finished. 'Yes, so they were made quick work of, as I have no doubt you will see for yourself.' He did not attempt to resolve the bafflement on the Elves' faces, but instead came to an ominous conclusion: 'Gundabad…Oh, this was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the North.'

'The North?' echoed Bilbo, 'Where is the North?'

'Ravenhill.'

'But…Thorin is up there. And Fili, Kili, Astra, Dwalin, they're all up there!'

'They cannot defeat a second army by themselves,' muttered Gandalf, looking worriedly for signs of Ember, but she was nowhere to be seen. 'The forces on the ground must be dealt with in full, but even her powers cannot be enough to strike down two armies at the same time…oh dear. Oh dear.'

Bilbo instantly became ten times more afraid - for Gandalf to say, 'oh dear' was a true signal of trouble.

'Recall your company. We are finished here.'

Thranduil's subordinate nodded brusquely and organized the few remaining Elf soldiers into single file with one sweep of the hand. Thranduil felt as though the centuries had caught up with him all at once - his very bones ached with fatigue and grief.

'My lord!' Gandalf called urgently, appearing from around a corner as fast as he could, 'Dispatch this force to Ravenhill - the Dwarves are about to be overrun. Thorin _must_ be warned.'

'By all means, warn him,' Thranduil said scathingly, gesturing to the staircase of bodies at his feet, 'I have spent enough Elvish blood in defense of this accursed land. No more.'

'Thranduil…!' Gandalf tried in vain. The Elf-lord and his fragment of living army were already making tracks. Gandalf sighed in despair, before a small and ever-present voice piped up behind him:

'I'll go.'

Gandalf turned to stare down at the Hobbit just to check he wasn't making a very ill timed joke.

'Don't be ridiculous, you'll never make it.'

'Why not?'

'Because they will see you coming, and _kill you_,' Gandalf said in exasperation.

'No they won't. They won't see me.'

'It's out of the question. I won't allow it.'

'…I'm not asking you to allow it Gandalf,' Bilbo replied with a hint of smart-aleckery in his voice - enough to make the Wizard smile for the briefest of moments.

'Then go forth, and quickly! Every passing second is precious to us!'

Thranduil led his Elves away single-mindedly, slaughtering any remaining Orcs who dared to obstruct them. Needless to say, he was in no mood to encounter Tauriel, a lone agent in Mirkwood green, blocking their only exit from Dale.

'You will go no further,' she declared loudly, her voice full of passion. 'You will not turn away. Not this time.'

'_Get out of my way_.'

'The Dwarves will be slaughtered,' she said, as unswaying as though her boots were nailed to the stone slabs.

'Yes, they will _die_,' said Thranduil, delivering his words with plenty of scorn, 'Tomorrow, one year hence, a hundred years from now, what does it matter? They are mortal.'

He expected his exiled Captain of the Guard to recoil in outrage. He did not expect her to notch an arrow in his direction faster than she could draw a seething breath.

'You think your life is worth more than theirs?' she hissed, regarding him with condemnatory eyes, 'When there is no love in it? There is no love in _you_.'

She regretted her last words as soon as they left her mouth, but to her they were the truth; Thranduil looked sincerely injured by the verbal blow. Then he sliced her bowstring clean in half. Tauriel gasped, feeling a sudden, unnatural weightlessness in one hand as the arrow clattered to the floor and what was left of the string dangled pathetically in snow-flecked breezes.

'What do you know of love? _Nothing_.' Tauriel had always thought she'd seen the full extent of Thranduil's anger, but as he pointed the tip of his sword at her neck, she realised just how mistaken she was. 'What you feel for that Dwarf is not real. You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?'

'If you harm her,' said Legolas, coming in between them from nowhere with a stony expression on his face, 'You will have to kill me.' He turned to Tauriel. 'I will go with you to Ravenhill. We may be our own force.'

**A/N:****Whew, lots of words these last two days. And I have no intention of stopping. There are only 2 or 3 chapters (let's see how generous I'm feeling, hehehe) left of ****_Firesight_****, which is utter madness because I've been writing this series for so long it's like I should have all my post sent direct to Middle Earth. Anyway, as the great Disney villain Scar said many times, '****_Be Prepaaaaaared' _****!**


	15. The Battle's Close

**Chapter Fifteen **

**The Battle's Close**

**A/N:****TriggerHarpy **and** NerdyHypsterKady**, thank you for your lovely/anxious reviews, they do make me chuckle ;D But yes, indeed, get the tissues ready…

Ravenhill was deathly cold, dusted with snow on every surface and, most noticeably, deserted. Thorin, Dwalin, Kili, Fili and Astra dismounted their rams and kept them in a corner, a shivering huddle. They stood in a watchful circle, looking outwards for signs of movement, their breaths ghostly clouds.

'Something's wrong,' Astra said quietly, 'Orcs can't just vanish, can they?'

'No, they just know how to skulk in the shadows,' said Fili. 'Uncle, where should we search first?'

Before Thorin could answer, Dwalin pointed up a stone staircase: 'Goblin mercenaries!'

'Just what we need,' grumbled Thorin. 'Fili, Kili, go under the ice shelf and scout the watchtowers, be on your guard. We'll hold them off.'

'Right,' said Kili, rushing off. Fili started after him, but held back to touch Astra's arm for a quick moment.

'Stay safe, you,' he said, before planting a kiss on her lips, which Thorin and Dwalin fervently pretended to ignore.

'…Will do,' she said, before refocusing. She gripped her sword with both hands to keep the trembling down. 'Vest, don't fail me now.'

It did not. Astra copied Thorin and Dwalin, trying to slay each Goblin that pounced on her as quickly as possible so she could move on to the next one - they were everywhere. More than once she felt a sickening jolt against her torso that, were it not for the Mithril, would surely have skewered her. More than once, however, the two Dwarves stayed true to their vow to keep Astra safe, helping to fight them off when her limbs shrieked and she felt unable to take any more.

By the time they were through, her hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat, already icy from the altitude. She, Thorin and Dwalin were breathless, but the fact that they had time to stop and recuperate was ominous - how much time had even passed? Would Fili and Kili find anything up in those towers? Were they wasting their time while Ember was exercising unheard of power down on the battlefield?

Astra never got to ask any of these questions. She swore that her eyes were playing tricks when Bilbo Baggins popped out of the air, panting like the rest of them.

'Thorin!' he gasped. The Dwarf whirled to face him, taken by surprise but immediately glad to see him.

'Bilbo.' He moved forward with a grin on his face, but it quickly disappeared upon registering Bilbo's grave demeanour.

'You have to leave here, now. Azog has another army coming in from the North. This watchtower will be completely surrounded, there'll be no way out.'

'Another army?!' said Astra, her heart battering her chest, 'One's devastating enough!'

'But we're so close,' said Dwalin, turning to Thorin, 'Azog is somewhere up here. We can still take out that Orc scum if we move in now -'

'No. That's what he wants,' said Thorin, pale. 'He wants to draw us in…This is a trap. Astra, find Fili and Kili - call them back.'

'Of course.'

'We'll live to fight another day,' he said, re-sheathing his sword.

'Thorin,' Astra said, pausing midway down the stairs, 'You have never sounded more like yourself.'

They exchanged smiles of alliance. She leapt down the last steps and started as quickly as possible across the square without slipping on ice patches. Her feet skidded to a halt when she heard what sounded like a clap of thunder. Then she saw torchlight climbing the inside of the nearest watchtower. Her face went slack.

'No...' Thorin whispered. He, Bilbo and Dwalin stepped forward in horror and disbelief as Azog appeared in all his grotesqueness at the top of the tower. He dragged Fili along the floor beside him, before wrenching him up by the scruff of the neck and letting him hang forty feet above the icy square. He had been stripped of his armour, and dark blood was already coagulating at his lips in the icy cold.

'Fili,' Astra whispered, before letting panic take over her voice: 'FILI!'

A twisted grin crept into Azog's face beneath his dead eyes. He used his jagged blade of an arm to point under Fili's neck and growled something in Orcish. Then he narrowed his eyes at Astra and pointed at her.

'What's he saying?' cried Bilbo, '_What is he saying?_'

Azog pointed to Thorin, his grin growing wider. Astra felt her voice shake when she realised:

'…Who he'll kill first.'

It happened so swiftly, but Astra felt it stretch out in the most awful, vile way. Azog stabbed Fili deep into his back, turning the blade to secure maximum pain, and threw his body off the ledge so it landed in the middle of the stone square with a nauseating thud. The Orc cackled at the sight of the body landing between his woman on one side, and his brother, staggering out from a lower arch, on the other.

Thorin and Dwalin could barely make a sound from shock, and Bilbo's hands immediately went to his mouth. Kili's jaw opened and closed like a broken cog.

Astra was white and wide-eyed. She slowly tilted her head up to the tower, from which Azog continued to mock them, but most of all, her. Her pain was one of many small victories. Hence her speed in finding the nearest sharp rock, no bigger than her thumb, and hurtling it up at the Orc. It caught him in the eye: target hit. He roared in pain and stumbled backwards, as his guards rushed to extract the offending weapon and staunch the sudden bleeding.

'DAMN YOU!' Astra screeched, leaping to her feet with sword in hand, '_YOU BASTARD, DAMN YOU!_'

She and Kili met eyes across the square, saw each other's seething rage, and fed off it. Together they charged up the snowy steps in a two-person cavalry, yelling and slicing at any creature who dared to get in their way.

'KILI!' Thorin shouted, alarm taking over shock, 'ASTRA, WAIT!'

'Thorin! Thorin, no -' Dwalin tore after Thorin, leaving Bilbo all alone in the square, still unable to get past the sight of Fili, heir to the throne of Erebor, dead, eyes staring up into a vast grey sky without seeing it.

But Bilbo didn't have long to mourn. All around him pebbles and ice fragments began jumping under an immense force. Though it was the last thing on Middle Earth he wished to do, Bilbo looked over his shoulder. Azog's second-in-command, Bolg, was approaching Ravenhill with a grey sea of Orcs behind him.

His first instinct was to run and use his ring to become invisible, but a second instinct overpowered it, an instinct that was tired of running and hiding from a fight - he was Bilbo Baggins, the first Hobbit to leave the Shire in goodness knows how long, wielder of Sting, the sword that killed half a dozen Mirkwood spiders…why shouldn't he face up to another enemy now?

Taking a page from Astra's book, he scooped up a handful of sharp pebbles and began lobbing them at weak points on the storming Orcs. But though he successfully blinded some, their hides were too thick and their strength too great to be deterred by one Hobbit.

In one of his more panicked, morbid moments, Bilbo expected the tip of a sword to find his heart any second now - he did not expect the end of Bolg's staff to come crashing down on his head. Were he able, he would have groaned, 'Owch.' Instead he slumped to the ground, everything in his vision melting like cooking oil on water, under the weight of a blooming ache. The last thing he saw was a hazy white light encroaching on the left.

' 'mber,' he slurred, 'Ember'll help…'

Kili and Astra split off at junctions around the tower, both seeing red against so much blizzard white. Kili had always hoped that he would take to battle well, but not like this. His hands full with axe and sword, he tore through every Orc in sight, exerting double his strength in his brother's absence.

It took him some time to return to his surroundings, just for an instant, to register the voice shouting his name from a level below. He finished shoving an Orc twice his size over the mountainside before running towards the voice: 'Tauriel!'

It was ambiguous whether she needed help or if she just wanted to seek him out, but as he was indebted to her for saving his life, he was not willing to risk staying away. When he heard an abrupt cry and choke, he picked up his sprint until his boots barely skimmed the snow.

When he leapt from the top of the ledge, he didn't know Bolg would be standing directly beneath, but it gave him immediate and fiery satisfaction to collide with his head. The more injuries the Orc commanders suffered, the less Fili's death was in vain (at least, that was the only logic Kili felt able to follow). But Bolg was not so easily disoriented: he gripped Kili's arm and threw him painfully spine-down onto some steps. Tauriel lay on her side on the stone floor, winded and concussed, the side of her skull bleeding out a streak of watery red.

Kili blew the pain of his landing out through clenched teeth, tightened the grip on his weapons, and launched himself back up. He swiped at Bolg and missed, but managed to duck before the Orc's club bashed his head to shards. He stuck the beast's arm with his sword, but suddenly it was knocked from his grasp, and a boulder of a fist crashed into his face.

Despite Tauriel's strongest efforts to jump Bolg and put him in a stranglehold to get him away from Kili, it wasn't enough. The Orc threw her off with one violent gesture, until she was back in the dirty snow, bones bruised, and her head bleeding harder than ever. She glanced up, met Kili's eyes, and felt for the first time in her life the plunging, lonely horror of powerlessness to prevent what was about to happen.

In the few moments before the spear made contact with Kili's chest, broke through his sternum and stuck his heart, he forced himself to forget all fear and think instead of how he would be reunited with Fili - it would be like they'd never separated at all. As for Ember, his lady of magic, he could see her walking towards him in starlight right now -

Tauriel took refuge from the hideous pain of watching Kili's stabbing in what she could only think was a concussion-induced hallucination: Bolg's arm - about to pull his blade from Kili's chest - disintegrated. The Orc yelled and stumbled backwards, to reveal his assailant, white as the snow and three times as blinding.

In that narrow window of opportunity, something came over Tauriel which she had never experienced before, and never would again. As if never having been injured in her life, let alone in the last hour, she pushed herself off the ground and pounced on the distracted, one-armed Bolg. She wrenched his neck, fractured his remaining arm, did everything possible to even the balance between their strengths. He faltered close to the lip of the ice shelf, but when Tauriel summoned everything within her to throw her body in a full circle and kick off of a rock slab, they both tumbled over the edge, their battle cries lost on the winter winds.

Even Ember could not save her - she had been too preoccupied with ensuring that Bolg's blade stayed exactly where it was in Kili's still-breathing body. By the time she'd caught Kili before he fell, and laid him carefully on the ground, Tauriel was already over the edge. Ember's white eyes pulsed wide as she moved forward with an outstretched hand, but she knew only how to destroy, not to recover. The silence that followed was cavernous.

'Eh - ah…' Kili rasped, before Ember's glowing fingers gently shushed him. She regarded him with the most potent and all-encompassing emotion available to her: empathy. She resolved in that moment to wield the powers of the Arkenstone to heal, or at the very least, to numb Kili's pain and slow his death.

'Do not be afraid, my love,' she said, her voice and the words it carried so distant that she, the speaker, did not feel real. Indeed, from the moment the light had brought her back, she had yet to feel an enduring sense of self like her mortal one. But for the moment that didn't matter. She single-mindedly laid a hand over Kili's heart, around the wound that would, eventually, kill him. She willed his pain away, and her light fed into him.

'This is not the end,' she said, stroking his face as his eyes half-closed in an anaesthetised state. Then she rose and tuned back into her surroundings - Thorin was on his own out there. Every soldier was. This battle had to be drawn to a close. And though she didn't yet know how, she would be the one to do it.

Thorin felt as though he'd been fighting for a hundred years. No matter how hard he pushed himself and allowed his rage to fuel his movements, the Goblin mercenaries kept coming in droves. Dwalin was cutting them down back around the watchtower, while Thorin was being driven dangerously close to the edge of the frozen waterfall, the lake without barriers. One particularly brutish Goblin knocked him clean off his feet and almost sent him sliding off the ice shelf altogether. But a sharp stab to the neck took out the creature efficiently and ruthlessly enough. When it fell, however, it took Thorin's blade with it, leaving him with very little left by way of weapons. A second hulking goblin loomed over him, and for a second Thorin seriously considered that this would be his abrupt and untimely death - either at the goblin's hands, or by falling hundreds of feet to escape it.

Fortunately for him, a third fate arose at the last possible moment. The goblin froze as it raised its sword overhead, and dissolved into specks of glittering dust. Ember reached through the cloud she had made and pulled Thorin to safety on his feet. She handed him the goblin's sword.

'Thank you. So much. I -'

But something sidetracked Thorin from his delighted gratitude. Ember slowly turned to find Azog, who stood with a stone block at the end of a thick chain, on the other side of the ice shelf. She and Thorin raised their heads, refusing to appear intimidated. Instinctively, Ember stepped forward, working up a brighter glow to ready herself against the Pale Orc, whose left eye was an angry and spoiled red.

Then the horn sounded. She stopped in the middle of the ice and stared beyond Azog, towards the beginnings of a second army in jagged formation on the horizon. Azog bared his teeth in a grin of pre-emptive victory. Ember resumed her steps and raised her arm like a sword all her own.

'Wait.'

She did not turn at Thorin's voice, but closed her palm and kept her powers at bay. A slight tilt of her head to the right signaled her attention.

'Ember, you have returned more powerful than any of us could dare to dream,' Thorin called, his voice tired but sincere, 'You can defeat millions. Let me take down this lone piece of scum.'

This she did turn for, ethereal as a remote star. Thorin held up the goblin blade with both hands, eyes steely.

'I must finish this.'

She nodded almost imperceptibly, turned back to face Azog and the oncoming army, and drew in a breath. Faster than a sunray could pinwheel over a landscape, Ember glided over the ice and onto bitter land where nothing grew, running headfirst for the second army of Orcs, Goblins, and other Gundabad monstrosities. Their pointed weapons meant nothing to her - she brushed them out of existence like tree branches. She powered through the centre of the army, trying to divide and confuse them where their overwhelming numbers made them difficult to cut down.

The fact was, despite the power that came to her over and over again, Ember could see in the middle of it all that there were too many of them. The numbers were stacked toweringly high against her, the Dwarves, Dale…against the innocents. There had to be another way.

Ember put up her hands to shield herself as the monsters tried to bombard her, and closed her eyes to clear her mind. From the white expanse came a single, sharp idea. She tapped into the core of the Arkenstone's ancient magic and shot up from the mountainside, taking off into the sky and soaring in a curve until she was floating above the battlefield - Erebor to the south, Dale to the east, and Ravenhill to the north.

She had spent seven years at the mercy of a deadly, dormant magic. Now she closed her eyes, spread her arms, and let the polar opposite possess her entirely.

On the dusty, blood-stained battlefield of Erebor, Ori swung his exhausted arms at another Orc, simultaneously filled with pride at how far he had come from his quiet companionship with dusty books, and with longing for those same books now. In between slays he kept a head count of the Company - aside from Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Astra, who were still atop Ravenhill and therefore out of sight, everyone was still alive and fighting. Bofur and Gloin even seemed to be making a game of it, shouting their kill count to each other over the chaos.

'Twenty-five!'

'Aha, twenty-six!'

'Y'know, if ever you teach this to your son, I hope you caution against cheating,' Bofur quipped, before sending a hammer cracking into an Orc's ribcage. 'Twenty-six!'

Ori did not know how many he had killed and how many he had just badly injured - even for Orcs, he'd rather remain ignorant. Either way, pounding his way was Orc number 'x' - Ori tightened his sore knuckles around the axe of his ancestors, and swung…at air.

'What the -' he gasped, dropping the axe narrowly short of his feet and gaping, along with every other Dwarf in the vicinity, as Orc after Orc, Goblin after Goblin, and Warg after Warg, fell upwards. There was really no other way to comprehend it - an invisible force swept each creature off the ground and sent it whirling at a dizzying speed into the air. Except the force, the Dwarf army quickly realised, was not invisible at all. It was white, and gold, and a thousand fractals of colour in between.

Up in war-torn Dale, the fighting men and women of Lake-town soon found themselves with nothing left to fight. Instead, the priority became to hold onto something for dear life. Bard grabbed his children, and the four of them clung to a solid pillar at the edge of the city walls, cowering in the face of a hurricane. Gandalf rooted himself securely to the stone floor, standing against the tidal pull of the winds and, in spite of everything, began laughing with joy and enchantment.

Thranduil and Legolas were detained at their respective points on the surrounding mountain-scape, watching in disbelief as the remainder of two immense Orc armies were sent spiraling into the air, the diameter tightening with every passing second. At the centre of it all, visible from beneath, with glowing arms raised high and tense, was the Arkenstone incarnate.

Soon there were no enemy soldiers left standing whatsoever. They were spinning so fast their roars were barely indistinguishable from a vicious thunderstorm. Ember felt it pound in her ears, her heart, and shake her arms. The time for the battle's end had come.

She brought her arms down, feeling the weight of all Middle Earth between them. The strength she summoned for her final, definitive act was gathered from the thought of Kili, Fili, Tauriel, Thorin, the Company, soldier and civilian victims alike and, above all, of Astra. She clapped.

For the thinnest sliver of time, everything paused in a void of sound and space. Then an earsplitting, bone-rattling ripple flashed out across the battlefield, and after that, a quiet so peaceful it was dissonantly at odds with everything that had gone before. The hurricane of enemy armies was gone; it snowed grey ash in widespread, enormous quantities.

Astra sat slumped by Fili's body, his head in her lap. She had stopped fighting a short time ago, and though her vital organs and limbs were intact, her face bled from a sharp line across her left cheekbone, and there were several penetrating aches that were almost certainly fractures. Crying would make her flesh wound sting - another reason to bury the temptation. She kidded herself for a minute that Fili was alive, simply resting against her lap, and watching Ember in the sky with the same fixation.

'Look at her, Fili,' Astra murmured, stroking his hair. 'She has...starsight.'

Bilbo had drifted out of consciousness to a glowing light. So too it roused him from his spell against the rocks. The sky was a wonderful colour. It made him long for fluffy mashed potatoes and the comfort of his hearth.

Thorin took one heavy, aching step after another until he reached the brink of the ice shelf, now pale gold like straw bales. He felt blood soak his clothes from the vest outwards, as quick to stain and drip as spilled wine. He looked at Ember and at everything she had done for them, at the enemy ash, so benign as it fell back down to the earth, and at the setting sun, the last he knew he would ever see. His knees gave way.

**A/N:** Well. Crumbs. I can't believe I've finally written this chapter, it's been a long time coming and, as expected, emotionally exhausting. Not that that'll stop me from writing the penultimate chapter of _Firesight _(gasp!), so take a tea break, replenish your Kleenex stocks, but otherwise, don't go anywhere...


	16. The Fallen

**Chapter Sixteen **

**The Fallen**

**A/N:** Ohhh man, I can't believe we're almost at the end. Currently feel like all my fangirl emotions have been tossed in a violent washing machine, as I'm sure **NerdyHypsterKady **will agree: thank you for all your lovely comments, I apologise if the last chapter broke you in several places.

Ember's whitened boots brushed against the ice shelf as she descended from the sky, taking measured breaths to stabilize herself. After a long blink, she opened her eyes to everything more clearly, with the hazy golden glow only at the outermost corners of her vision. She saw Bilbo hobbling down a flight of stairs, patched with ice water sparkling in the newly revealed sunset. He threw his sword to one side and rushed to Thorin, who was supine, still, and spattered with blood.

'Thorin!'

'Bilbo.' The Dwarf's voice was huskier than it had been throughout the entire quest.

'Lie still, don't move.' Bilbo pushed back Thorin's outer coat and recoiled in horror at the deep wound beneath, its stain already the size of a handprint and growing larger still. Ember stepped quietly into Thorin's line of sight, saying nothing. He smiled weakly at her.

'I'm glad you're here,' he murmured, 'Both of you.'

'Ssh,' Bilbo choked, as if speaking would shorten Thorin's lifespan even more.

'I wish to part from you in friendship,' Thorin said to him, his words weary but the force behind them strong.

'You're not going anywhere, Thorin,' Bilbo said with a stubborn shake of the head, 'You're going to live.'

'I take back my words at the gate,' said Thorin, ignoring Bilbo's denial, 'You did what any true friend would do…Forgive me. I was too blind to see it.' He looked between Bilbo and Ember both, his eyes filled with sorrow more acute than either had ever seen in anyone. 'I am so sorry. I have led you all into such peril.'

'No, no, I am glad to have shared in your perils,' said Bilbo, leaning over Thorin and trying to sustain a brave smile, 'Each and every one of them. And it's far more than any Baggins deserves.'

'Farewell, Master Baggins,' Thorin smiled. Bilbo's face crumpled, but he listened nonetheless. 'Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow…If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place.'

His breaths were ragged now, but Thorin still found strength to meet Ember's eyes, no longer blank, but back to their familiar brown. He raised his arm a little off the ice to encourage her to kneel beside him. She obliged, feeling something in chest split, like a flower stalk broken down the middle, when Thorin put his hand against her face. She had to hold it there as his strength died down.

'Your soul is more beautiful than any gem in those halls, Ember,' he whispered, his voice ageing with every word. 'Go, return to your family…Be with my nephew…Have all the happiness that has been stolen from you.'

Her pain did not spike as she expected it to when a thin, glassy tear ran down her skin, but it left a trail of fierce heat, like sunburn. She was not about to destroy Thorin's final moments in this life with the news that Kili was also dying. Instead, she just reciprocated his gesture, a glowing hand on his battle-worn face.

'You have not been at peace for a long time, Thorin. Be at peace now.'

The Dwarf took a last breath before his body finally surrendered. His eyes looked to nothing.

'No, no no no, Thorin, don't you dare! Thorin…'

Bilbo curled into his knees and masked his face with a hand. He howled as softly as it was possible to howl, like a faithful sheepdog mourning the loss of its shepherd. Ember rose, wiped the tear trail from her face, and took a long, cold breath with closed eyes. She placed a hand tenderly on Bilbo's back, channeling warmth into him for a small comfort.

'Gandalf is on his way,' she told him, 'And the others will be here. You will not be alone. I will be back soon.'

She started up the stone stairs and made swiftly back to the watchtower grounds. Snow and ash had finished falling, leaving just the wind in their wake, beating on in invisible tides. She paused underneath the stone archway. Kili was still lying on his back, hands gingerly around the hilt of Bolg's sword in the middle of his chest. He breathed weakly, but his expression conveyed no significant amount of discomfort or pain. He was just waiting.

Dwalin stood at Kili's feet, and Thranduil at his head. They both looked spent, grim and silent in the knowledge that nothing more could be done - if they moved the sword, he would bleed out. If not, he would be stuck this way for the rest of his life, in a static half-existence. Dwalin dabbed at his eyes before noticing Ember standing across from them. Thranduil regarded her with something between pity, hostility, and respect.

'It can only end one way, can't it,' muttered Dwalin, his eyes bitterly sad. Ember nodded and knelt beside Kili. He stirred ever so slightly at the touch of her hand on his face, and opened his eyes to look at her one last time. He smiled as if in the throes of an idyllic dream.

'I knew you walked in starlight.'

Ember smiled back, her expression at odds with the harsh tightening of her right hand around the sword handle.

'You will walk there too.'

'Come with me?' he whispered, his sense of humour present even so close to death.

'Any day now,' she whispered back, leaning in closer and closer until the world consisted only of each other's eyes, 'My love.'

'My love,' he breathed, before their lips met, for the first and last time in their mortal lives. It was the most bittersweet moment Ember could have imagined, for as soon as it began, she had to end it by pulling the sword from his chest in a single, sudden tug. Kili opened his mouth to preserve the memory of the kiss, before his body sank further against the snow and moved no more.

Ember stood with the sword in her hand, slick with blood in the dwindling sunlight. She felt the burn inside her eyes again before another tear escaped, provoking a ghostly hiss of steam as it landed on the icy ground. Her lungs filled with painful air before she leaned back and threw the sword over the ice shelf and sent it spinning far out of sight. Dwalin sniffed violently.

'Where…where is -' He paused before trying again, 'Where is Thorin?'

Ember deliberately kept her gaze on the neighbouring mountains.

'On the frozen lake.'

The Dwarf left the watchtower. Ember suddenly felt very tired, and in no mood to bear bad news when it would be discovered eventually anyway.

'Father.'

Thranduil came out of his sombre ruminations at the sound of his son's voice. Legolas emerged from the other archway of the watchtower, an unresponsive Tauriel in his arms. His eyes shone.

'I found her on the mountainside, not far from the creature Bolg…both are dead.'

He saw Kili's body in the square and laid Tauriel's parallel to his. Ember watched Legolas reach into one of his pockets with a clenched jaw before handing something small and black to her: Kili's rune stone.

'This was in her belt,' said Legolas. 'It should be returned to his family.' Ember nodded and rubbed her hands over the stone, not knowing if he meant it should be returned to her, or the Company. Either way, there was very little family left to speak of. 'I am sorry for your loss,' he added, standing over both bodies. Ember nodded.

'And I for yours.'

'I know you loved her dearly, Legolas,' said Thranduil, his first words in some time. He crossed to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. Legolas clenched his jaw even tighter, struggling to keep the welling in his eyes from spilling over.

'If this is love,' he said, strained, 'Then I do not want it. Take it from me.' This he implored to both Thranduil and Ember, as if she truly would have the power to do such a thing, or the will to do it. When neither of them responded, he ran a shaky hand over the bridge of his nose, before muttering, 'Why does it hurt so much?'

Thranduil remained stoic as ever, but gripped his son's shoulder more firmly. He sighed, 'Because it was real.'

Legolas pre-emptively wiped his eyes with the back of his thumb, then glanced at Ember, unsure of how to perceive her. He asked the only question that seemed appropriate after everything that had passed:

'What will you do now?'

'Kili deserves to be buried with his kin,' Ember replied calmly. 'I will take him. Will you return to the Green Wood?'

Legolas shook his head as if with a bad taste in his mouth.

'I cannot go back. Not now.'

'Where will you go?' asked Thranduil.

'…I do not know.'

Ember felt something stir in her mind, like the rediscovery of a half-forgotten memory…but a memory of the future. The Arkenstone was giving her foresight of its own. She turned to Legolas and spoke in a voice that was hers, and yet not hers: 'There are some wanderers with whom you will cross paths. Go North. Find the Dunedain. You will meet a young ranger amongst them. His father Arathorn was a noble man. His son might grow to be nobler still.'

Legolas and Thranduil exchanged intrigued, if uncertain, glances.

'What is his name?' asked Legolas.

'In the wild, he is known as Strider,' she replied. 'Once you have learned his true name, return to the Green Wood. You will find another wanderer some years hence. You will know when to help her.'

Legolas nodded. Ember returned to the present, and to Kili. Her arms lifted him from the ground as simply and gently as if he were a precious piece of tapestry. She left the Elf-lords of Mirkwood to take Tauriel's body back through Dale.

On the ice shelf, Astra could not lift Fili as easily, not with her various injuries accumulated from the battle. She cradled his feet while Dwalin held him under the arms, and wearily crossed the ice until they could lay him down next to his uncle. Bilbo had left Thorin's side only once, to walk into Gandalf's solemn embrace and exchange a necessary, sobering puff on a pipe.

The rest of the Dwarves had ascended the mountain on rams and goats, and were now gathered in a half-circle overlooking the ash-covered battlefield. They had not been prepared for this news, let alone the sight of the dead themselves. By the time Dwalin had rested Fili's head against the ice, the head of the child against whom he'd sparred for hours with wooden swords, tears were falling liberally down his face. And he was not the only one - any Dwarf who wasn't weeping looked bluer than the darkest blood of an ocean. Not only had they lost their leaders - present and future - but they had lost fellow warriors, cousins, pupils, friends and, above all else, brothers. Astra stood apart from them, still keeping her tears under lock, but clutching her arms in the ongoing chill with a face of weathered stone.

'Oh,' rasped Bofur, rising from his knees, hat hanging in one hand while he pointed across the ice with the other. 'Oh _no_…'

They all turned to find their worst fears, and wildest hopes, realised: Ember was walking towards them, alive, but with Kili dead in her arms. Balin broke down in tears all over again, as did Dori, Gloin and Bilbo. Astra could not take her eyes away for so much as a second. Gandalf watched Ember with a mixture of grief and anxiety, as her brown eyes, stark against the glowing white aura surrounding her, held a world full of pain.

None of the Dwarves knew what to do other than mourn a third, devastating loss. Ember set Kili down on Thorin's other side. She stood back and concentrated on her breathing, which felt increasingly difficult to manage.

Ori's cheeks were soaked with tears, but his voice came out clear and unbroken, if grave:

'The Line of Durin is ended.'

**A/N: **No, I totally didn't cry writing my own chapter, what are you implying…One more to go, if you can believe that. All I'll say is this: joyous or tragic, expect the unexpected.


	17. The Fading Silmaril

**Chapter Seventeen **

**The Fading Silmaril **

**A/N: ****TriggerHarpy **and **NerdyHypsterKady**, thank you once again for your truly awesome reviews - I sincerely apologise for depleting your tissue stocks. Now we're onto the final chapter which, as I've mentioned before, is such a surreal thought. I should start charging these characters rent for taking up so much of my brain. Once more unto the breach, dear readers, once more…

They stayed up there a while longer, having reached a silent consensus that all anyone felt capable of doing at that moment was watching the yolky sun sink towards the horizon. They all sat on the ice or the rocks surrounding it, the three heirs to the throne lying where they were.

Not long after Ember had laid Kili down, Astra had approached her, slowly and cautiously, not believing her sister was really standing there with air in her lungs until they met each other's gazes, at which point Astra pulled her arms tight around Ember and took a wounded breath. Ember closed her eyes and halved the weight of her tired bones by returning the embrace.

Below in Dale, a deep and powerful horn blared into the sky, to officially signify the battle's end, and to begin a moment of mourning for the fallen, be they men, women, Dwarves, or Elves. Ember pulled Astra closer and ran a hand over her neck, trying to quell her trembling fingers. Astra gasped and stepped out of the embrace. She sandwiched her hands over Ember's, eyes widening in alarm.

'Em, you're so cold…' She hissed upon seeing faint red marks against her palms. 'Your skin is _burning_ cold.'

Without Astra to hold, Ember began shivering all over, the glow in her complexion brightening and dimming sporadically, and the clouds of her breath barely visible. Gandalf frowned and quickly got to his feet.

'Ember.' The rest of the Company turned their attention to the concern in his voice. 'How do you feel?'

'It burns, Gandalf,' she replied, her words singed, 'Everywhere…I am so cold.'

This was the most vulnerable she had appeared since prior to her death in Erebor. Bofur pulled his hat back on and removed the midnight blue cloak from around his shoulders. Though, like the others, he was intimidated by her revived state, he went up to Ember and reached to tie the cloak around her shoulders instead.

'Here,' he said with a sad kindness, 'This was Kili's. He let me borrow it to keep warm, but I'm sure he would much rather see you in it.'

Ember hugged her arms and wrapped the cloak as snugly around her as possible.

'T-thank you, Bofur.'

He had quite missed the point, though. The searing cold was not external - she could feel it clawing over her heart, the grip tightening with every passing minute.

'Ember,' said Bilbo, who also stood up, 'I know this is really neither the time nor the place to ask it, but…what on earth happened to you? How is _anything _about you possible?'

'And are you alive or…' Nori paused, unable to find a more tactful way of saying, 'Dead?'

'It is difficult even for me to understand, let alone explain,' Ember said, her breath short as if she had just sprinted a great distance, 'But…Ember died. One Ember did, at the least…One moment there was nothing and then…everything. All of time, all of space. And all manner of magic.'

'How?' said Astra, looking increasingly anxious, 'How and why? I just - it is a _miracle_ you're here, but not one that I understand.'

'I am afraid,' said Gandalf, reaching for Ember's left arm beneath Kili's cloak, 'That I do.'

He turned over her forearm for all to see - the Dwarves rose and moved in closer, faces stretching in disbelief and alarm. Ember's veins, once healthily red, then solid gold, then bloodless, were now gleaming quicksilver, practically clear as diamond save for winks of gold and white. Balin was the first of the Company to make the inference.

'The Arkenstone. It was the Arkenstone.'

'It is more than that, dear Balin,' Gandalf said gravely, turning to Ember, who found the courage to utter what was at once impossible and plainly obvious:

'I _am_ the Arkenstone.' Gandalf nodded, releasing her arm when it started to sting his fingertips. 'And it is killing me.'

'What?' gasped Bilbo, looking as flummoxed as the rest of them. 'But…_what? _How can a gem become a person, bring them back to life, and do all of -' (he gestured to the battlefield of enemy ashes) ' - _that_?'

'The Arkenstone was never any mere gem, Bilbo,' said Gandalf, before addressing the Dwarves. 'You all knew this, as did Thror, but not exactly why this was so. Very few know the precise origin of the jewel. For those of us who have lived long enough to see many generations come and go, we have always suspected that this stone, this gem of notorious beauty, is one of the lost Silmarils, thrown by Maedhros into the fiery chasm that eventually became the Lonely Mountain.'

'Maedhros...the only Elf known to have killed himself willingly,' said Astra, remembering picking up the fact when she brushed a hand over one of Quill's precious history books.

'By my beard,' breathed Dwalin, speaking for the rest of the Erebor Dwarves, 'And you're telling us it now flows through Ember's veins?'

'The Arkenstone would have been calling out to someone good, someone worthy of revival.'

'That's why none of us could touch it, isn't it?' said Ori, the cogs of his mind turning visibly, 'We didn't need reviving.'

'Ember was dead,' Gandalf nodded, 'The heart of the mountain has replaced her own, and in so doing, has revived the good witch within.'

'All that power,' said Astra, her voice quivering, 'Em's. The Arkenstone's. Combined.'

'And amplified tenfold,' Gandalf said to Ember. 'What you did to end the battle was magic even I do not possess. It is the kind of power that no person can embody and endure. Certainly not for long.'

'You said it was killing you,' said Astra, eyes darting between Gandalf and Ember, 'But you don't mean that, Em. You can't mean that. Gandalf…' The rise in her voice was sharp and sudden. 'Gandalf, Ember, there has to be _something _we can do. I am not losing you again.'

Astra was only able to touch her sister's face for a few seconds before the burn became too much. Ember and Gandalf looked at one another, she more breathless than ever.

'I don't know what to do.'

'Neither do I.'

Those were words Gandalf seldom uttered. It was frightening to hear. For some moments no one spoke, as if silence could buy them all more time. But Ember grew only shakier, her face gaunter than it was a mere hour ago, as if the Arkenstone were literally drawing life away from her surface. Soon enough, her knees buckled, and she was gasping for breath on the ice, aglow one second and practically extinguished the next.

'Ember!' Astra grasped her sister through Kili's cloak, where she couldn't be burned. 'Ember, you're here, you're alive, keep breathing.'

Ember's hands went to her temples, pressing hard as if trying to unscrew her own head. Her eyes went white, then brown, then white and back to brown again. Everyone wanted to help; no one knew how.

'I - see - _everything_,' she moaned, curling inwards until her white hair began draping against the ice. 'It's too much…I can't - it hurts so much -'

Her sentence descended into a long, agonised groan. Bilbo's hands went to his own head.

'This is so horrible.'

'Gandalf, for the love of the Valar, _do something_!' Astra pleaded, at the end of her tolerance for anxiety. The Wizard looked as lost as the others, until his mind locked onto Astra's invocation of the Valar.

'There is no known magic that will remedy her condition,' he said, tightening his grip on his staff, 'But I am not the highest wielder of power in Middle Earth. I have not attempted this for an age, but Ember -' He lowered himself to one knee and decisively took up one of her hands. '- I failed to save your life once. I refuse to do so again.'

Ember forced herself to peer through her pain and focus on Gandalf. With unsteadiness along the way, he helped her to her feet and, after placing it directly between them, encouraged her to put both hands on the staff as he did too. Bofur asked the question they were all thinking:

'What are you doing?'

'Asking for a miracle,' Gandalf replied, closing his eyes. Ember did the same, mostly because it was too painful to take in what was left of the daylight. 'Now, all of you, be silent.'

They were silent, but no less watchful. Astra didn't so much as blink all the while Gandalf furrowed his brow in concentration, muttering something under his breath over and over again.

'Ember?'

'Y-yes.'

'I need you to set your mind on one thing, and one thing alone: recite in your head, and then aloud, what you wish to be done.'

'…Now?' she hissed through clenched teeth.

'Now.'

'I - I want to fade away,' she stammered, fighting for breaths that wouldn't burn her from the inside. 'There's too much within me, let it fade. Let it fade. Please let it fade. Fade away, fade away, fade…'

She whispered these words ferociously, channeling her ceaseless burning into the plea until it felt more and more like an incantation backed by real power - she could taste it on the air.

When Gandalf took the staff out from her hands, the speed with which the crushing pain began to lift was indescribable. Ember sighed long and hard, her lungs finally freeing up, and opened her eyes to the golden-orange sky. The first person she saw was Astra, who rushed towards her, clutched her hands, and looked intoxicated with relief.

'Your hands, they're not burning!' she exclaimed, 'They -'

Her words stopped as abruptly as if an axe had sliced through them. Ember looked where she was looking, at her hands, and shrieked in fright: save for the faintest, silvery outline, her fingers were disappearing. Skin, tissue, bone, none of it was there anymore - all Ember could see was frozen water. The phenomenon crept up her hands and wrists at a terrifying rate.

'Gandalf…' she said in a small voice, before her forearms vanished and she lost all sense of calm. 'GANDALF!'

'What's happening to her?!' Bilbo cried.

'...She is fading,' the Wizard replied, his face stricken. He had not expected the Valar to take Ember's wishes so literally. He and the Dwarves looked on in horror as Astra desperately tried to grab at what was left of Ember. But the process only sped up in response: from head to toe, her sister was thinning out of existence.

Ember remained still, but she could feel herself sliding backwards, as though an immense tide were pulling her out to sea. On both sides of her vision the mountains and sunset moved away, blurring into cosmic blue and black, into cavernous space and terrific stars.

'No,' Astra shouted, matching her sister's petrified expression, 'No no no Ember NO - !'

In a single breath and a flash of white light, she was gone. Astra had to stop herself from falling over into nothing, nothing but a bitter breeze. Her breath suspended halfway between lungs and mouth, she turned on the ice and stared at Gandalf.

'What. Have you. Done.'

'The only thing I could think to do,' he said, hoarse. 'It should have been impossible.'

'Is she -'

'She is not dead, Astra,' he was quick to add, albeit solemnly. 'She is not dead.'

'…Then where is she?' Ori braved asking. Gandalf looked, and felt, more exhausted than he had in his entire life, perhaps even more than after being saved from Dol Guldur.

'I do not know.' When he turned back to Astra, he could see from her face that this was the least appropriate response he could have given. 'It has been so very, very long since I asked anything of the Valar directly. Ember wanted to fade away, so that is what they have granted her. But it will not have killed her. No, she has been sent elsewhere, having faded, not out of this life, but out of this _time._'

'What does that mean,' Astra snapped. Gandalf pensively scanned the orange horizon.

'It means she is alive, and hopefully well, in another time altogether - the past, the future, recent or distant, it is beyond my ability to see.'

'_Then she might as well be_ _dead!_' Astra yelled, tearing her sword from its scabbard. With gritted teeth she stepped forward, as if about to lunge at Gandalf, but then she caught sight of Fili, still and peaceful on the ice shelf, and found herself unable to take another step. She experienced a moment of horrifying self-loathing, before understanding the brutally simple truth behind it: loss means pain.

Astra bit her lip almost to bleeding point, trying to keep her tears at bay. But it was a lost cause now - she put both hands around the sword and plunged it into the ice. It was not enough to cause a break in the thick sheet, but enough to let the sword stand on its own. She dropped to her knees, relinquished the sword, and howled into her hands. Tears be damned - she had lost her lover and her sister within hours of each other.

Gandalf knew better than to comfort her immediately. He would wait until the worst of her righteous anger had been spent before proposing that he and Bilbo accompany her home, where she deserved to be. Bilbo, meanwhile, was the first to join Astra's side and wordlessly put his arms around her. Dwalin took over when night fell and they had to return to Erebor - he took Fili's dark cloak from his back when they moved the bodies, and draped it over Astra's shoulders without needing to say anything.

So here ends the tale of the Darell sisters, who joined a quest without even the first notion of how it would forever change their lives, or how they would forever change the lives of others.

It resumes approximately sixty years later.

**_Preview: The Time That Is Given To Us_**

**Chapter One**

**Into The Shire**

She held onto grass blades until the ground stopped spinning, taking refuge in darkness when it was too exhausting to keep her eyes open.

Gradually, with patience came stability. She slowly sat on her knees and let cool night air brush her head. The sky was starry confetti cast over fresh ink. There were also fireworks.

She sat in the field awhile, unsure of whether she should focus her energies on standing up and getting somewhere, or on recalling who she was and what had happened to her. She did know she was a complete self, a woman with a history, with likes and dislikes. For instance, if she thought of a pear she knew that it was disgusting, that her favourite colours were pine green and burnt orange, and that _a dragon was heading straight for her_.

She gasped and threw herself face first into the grass, hands protecting her head. At once overcome with dread, she waited for the end as if she had practiced doing so a hundred times before. When the end then didn't come, she risked glancing up. Ferocious red and orange sparks descended from a single point of detonation in the sky, like branches from a tree.

The dragon was just another firework. But she had seen a real one before. She stood, shaky and breathless. Everything was coming back to her in a jumbled mess, memories flinging into her head like raining swords. There was too much of everything, too much loss, for her to understand. One thing she did pull out of the chaos: her name.

**A/N:** …Oh, you thought we were done here? THINK AGAIN! No, dear readers, the adventures are far from over. In fact, if you put me on your Author Alerts, you'll be taken to the _LOTR_ story of which this ^ is just an extract. That's right, you're in this for the long haul. But with the right mixture of encouraging reviews, inspiration, and perspiration (Olympic typing), I want to make it worth your while by working all the storytelling magic I can. *offers hand* Shall we?


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